


i'll write you into my bones (it's never enough)

by mongaygay



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Showho is very much in love and it physically hurts me, Well - Freeform, hyungkyun is cute, hyungwon and changkyun explore the past together, i'm horrible to Every character, joohyuk is..., semi fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-03-31 09:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13972476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongaygay/pseuds/mongaygay
Summary: “The Son Kingdom. Myth or reality?“Legend says that centuries ago, there was a powerful kingdom, thrice undefeated. Desperate to hold onto this power, the King sought out a higher power to keep his Kingdom strong. Something no other nation had.“The God of Power. He had been dormant for years, but smelt the King’s ambition and awoke from his slumber. Licking his hungry lips, he offered the King something he could not refuse.“Power. Infinite power.”Hyungwon knows to gasp just at this moment. It keeps Changkyun going.“With only one condition.”“And what’s that?” Hyungwon responds.“That the balance of power be maintained. Only then could the Son Kingdom be stable. Only then could they maintain their fiery victorious streak. And if that balance should… tip over, a seed of evil would be planted,”Changkyun locks eyes with Hyungwon.“The Son Kingdom would be torn to shreds.”-- In which Kihyun is shocked at how deathly devoted to Shownu Wonho is, Minhyuk and Jooheon aren't allowed to be, and centuries later Hyungwon and Changkyun piece together the story.





	1. Embrace (pt. 1)

There’s so much blood.

 

He’s too high up and he’s so scared but there’s way too much blood and he’s scared of that too but he can’t look away. The little boy sees the crying, the hugging, rows of covered stretchers being wheeled past. People are screaming, and he doesn’t know why. Is something wrong? But… They’re laughing. With tears dripping down their faces, they’re mouths are twisted ghastly in mirth. He doesn’t understand.

 

There’s a moment when the uproar dies down and then the boy sees _him_ and then he’s running, crying and laughing, feet barely keeping up with his little body, pushing through the hugging crowd. The crowd of strangers threaten to block his view of the man he is running at, but he squeezes through, tiny mouth hanging open somewhere between a desperate shout and a whine. Everything’s chaos. The man turns around and catches his glance and then they’re collapsing into each other, all tired-limbed and teary-eyed and weak-kneed and _together_. Even as his knee gets caught on the hilt of a sword and his soft hands are stained by the blood leaking out of the man’s covered wounds, even as the ground threatens to shake with the tears that splash the mud and under the weight of the knees that smack the soil, the little boy finally feels safe.

 

The General is home.

 

Later that day, the General cleans up his wounds with gauze and thread and lets the blood drain into the bowl, smiling reassuringly at the boy kneeling in front of him, brows furrowed in worry and pink lips forming around the words he read out from an instruction manual.

 

“Wonho-ah,” The General calls gently, resting a clean hand on the back of the little boy’s head. Wonho doesn’t respond, blinking confusedly at the unfamiliar medical terms.

 

“Why do we have to press down on the wound? Won’t that hurt you more?”

 

The General can’t help but chuckle at the childish worry in Wonho’s voice. He puts away the medical supplies and pulls him onto his lap, wrapping the child in a soul-crushing hug. Wonho laughs, small arms flailing in an adorable attempt to fight his way out. He puts his hands onto the Generals chest and pushes so he’s further away, only to get pulled back in in a matter of seconds after dropping his guard due to his excitement over his tiny victory.

 

“You already won the war! Let me win this fight!” Wonho uses balled up fists to hit the General’s shoulders, regressing to angry baby-babble when his demands aren’t met. He digs his small feet into the General’s back, unknowingly right into a knife wound. Wonho’s anger immediately turns into worry when the General lets out a shout of pain. He paws at the General’s robes, pushing his feet further in in the process. Poor baby. He looks sad and confused as the General lifts him off, trying to crawl back into his lap to look for the source of hurt.

 

As children’s attention spans go, Wonho actually managed to hold onto his thought for quite a while.  But even with his superior memory retention skills, he soon forgot about the wound and found a new topic.

 

“Why doesn’t the King go with you to war?” He asks this question to the floor, but with small furrowed brows and a pout and the same worried curiosity he had used when reading the healing manual just moments before. The General hesitates before speaking.

 

“I can’t bring the King with me into war because the throne is nothing without him. The world doesn’t continue to turn unless the King is on his throne. I can’t let any harm befall him.”

 

Wonho gives all of the General’s blood-stained bandages a once-over, “What about you?”

 

“What?”

 

“Then why do _you_ go?”

 

“The world wouldn’t mourn me.”

 

At this, Wonho pulls the General’s rough hands into his soft ones, pushing the General’s hand to his lips and whispering into them, “I would.” The General feels Wonho’s eyelashes laced with tears, tickling his knuckles. The tear sinks into his heart like heavy rocks and threaten to rip it in half. He envelopes the child into his embrace and holds him there, hoping he doesn’t feel the General’s tears slip over his head. He wants to protect him from what he’ll eventually have to teach him.

 

That the King is the flower and the General is the grass. That the grass will yellow and be trodden on and die just so the lovers can get to the flower. That even though he’s being raised side by side with another little boy, in years to come he will kneel at his feet. That the General has died over and over again for the King’s every wish. That he’s written the King into his bones and it’s still not enough. The General wants to protect him from all of that, so he just holds him, body riddled by gashes, as his blood drips dark and red onto the floor.

 

Wonho falls asleep in his arms.

 

-

 

 _This better be about something important_ , Hyungwon thinks to himself, rushing out of his room, barely clutching his bag and his dignity as he walks out of the house with his feet tucked into his shoelaces instead of his shoes. He’s completely cool with Changkyun occasionally (and very _rarely_ ) calling him to the office in the middle of the night, but this is the _third_ time this week and Hyungwon needs his beauty sleep. (He looks at his reflection in a passing bus and swallows back his shame, freeing a hand from carrying his bag to brush his stray hairs back. _God_ , he needs his beauty sleep.) He rushes along.

 

The room is a mess when he walks in, and it takes him all of 5 minutes to locate his boyfriend under a pile of books. What’s going on? Hyungwon forgets all this past shame about his looks when he sees poor Changkyun with his hair sticking up in every direction, a delirious smile on his face. In a matter of seconds, Hyungwon is attacked by wet kisses and while he loves Changkyun and his touch, he really wants to know what’s going on. He escapes Changkyun’s affection and grips him firmly by the shoulders.

 

“I’m going to be completely professional now so you can stop being embarrassing and tell me what’s going on.”

 

Changkyun looks like he’s barely keeping it together as he forces himself to stop smiling and stand up straight.

 

“Im. What’s. Going. On. Why’re you so happy?”

 

It’s then that Changkyun drops all pretence of being calm. He ducks out of Hyungwon’s grip and runs to the other end of the room, returning with his laptop that’s open to a news article.

 

 _REMAINS OF SON KINGDOM TO BE DESTROYED_.

 

Why was Changkyun so happy about this? Hyungwon glances from the laptop to his boyfriend, brows raised, waiting for the ball to drop. Then he sees the letter on the messy desk.

He picks it up and reads it aloud,

 

“Dear Mr Im Changkyun,

 

Now that we’ve disseminated the news of the remains of the Son Kingdom being torn down, we have been authorised to allow you and Mr Chae Hyungwon to-”

 

“EXPLORE AND STUDY THE KINGDOM GROUNDS AND ARTEFACTS!”

 

With that shout, Changkyun throws himself into Hyungwon’s arms. Hyungwon doesn’t know how to feel. The Son Kingdom was being torn down… But he and Changkyun had been granted a pass to study it before it’s destruction. It’s all they ever wanted, right? He wraps his arms around Changkyun (who’s wriggling into his chest as if there’s room to put more happiness if he could just find it) and feels excited for the first time in a while. Time to uncover history.

 

He sees Changkyun rolling up his sleeve and laughs. _This is going to be good_ , he thinks. But he feigns annoyance.

 

“Changkyun, we’ve both been studying the Son Kingdom for years. Do you really have to teach me about it every time-”

 

“Bup, bup, bup, bup.”

 

Hyungwon kisses the finger Changkyun has pressed onto his lips, and watches in satisfaction as Changkyun yelps and moves away.

 

“Not right now, Chae.”

 

Changkyun is hilarious.

 

“So. The Son Kingdom. Myth or reality?

 

“Legend says that centuries ago, there was a powerful kingdom, thrice undefeated. Desperate to hold onto this power, the King sought out a higher power to keep his Kingdom strong. Something no other nation had.

 

“KRATOS, God of Power. He had been dormant for years, but smelt the King’s ambition and awoke from his slumber. Licking his hungry lips, he offered the King something he could not refuse:

 

“Power. _Infinite_ power.”

 

Hyungwon knows to gasp just at this moment. It keeps Changkyun going. What a nerd. Changkyun narrows his eyes mysteriously, leaning forward until Hyungwon can feel his breath brushing his face.

 

“With only one condition.”

 

“And what’s that?” Hyungwon responds, just as Changkyun wishes.

 

“That the balance of power be maintained. Only then could the Son Kingdom be stable. Only then could they maintain their fiery victorious streak. And! If that balance should… _tip over_ , a seed of evil would be planted,”

 

Changkyun locks eyes with Hyungwon.

 

“The Son Kingdom would be torn to shreds.”

 

They kiss.

 

-

 

Shownu shifts in his palanquin, careful to keep his body upright and his expression calm. He’s actually itching to jump off and join the eager citizens lining the streets. How wrong that he gets carried along, waving regally at the people as if it’s him they’re celebrating. Is it? He wants to jump off of the throne and run back. Are they okay?

 

All he was told was that they had won the war. _A new era of strength for the Son Kingdom_ , they tell him. _The Generals fought well_ , he was told. But are the Generals okay? He tugs nervously at his robes, ignoring the annoyed click of the tongue from his chamberlain. Is _he_ okay?

 

When he’s carried into the courtyard, he can finally see the rows of stretchers being carried past. His ear unblocks with a pop and suddenly the sounds of screaming and wailing overwhelm him. Is it happy? He locks his eyes onto every stretcher that’s hurried past him, praying desperately not to see the man he’s looking for. He sees the families that recognized their loved ones on the bloody stretchers and his heart threatens to rip and sink out of his chest. It almost makes him guilty that he’s relieved it’s not him.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the First General of the Son Kingdom: Minho.”

 

He sees the First General kneel at his father’s feet and then press a kiss to his hands. If they wanted any more affection from each other, they don’t show it. Shownu steels himself to do the same when his time comes.

 

“The Second General of the Son Kingdom: Wonho.”

 

He feels his heart stop in his chest and the blood stop running through his veins. Jelly-legged and dry-lipped, he sits up straighter as he sees his best friend walk towards him. Wonho looks tired and pale, small and large scratches and gashes lining his body. He’s lost a lot of weight, his cheekbones looking painfully pronounced. But he’s here. And he’s alive. And he’s back.

 

Wonho’s home.

 

Wonho doesn’t kneel at his feet but embraces him instead: a reminder that for the first time in their lives, they were of the same status. The Crown Prince and the General, second only to the King himself. He lets himself go in Wonho’s arms. _God_ , he had missed him. He had missed this. It’s not like Shownu hadn’t thought of him every day or held on to every little bit of warmth he received pretending it was from Wonho or gotten through every day knowing Wonho was getting through a day too. But actually having him here, breathing him in and feeling his smile push his cheeks into Shownu’s neck, feeling his fingers grip into Shownu’s robes and pull as if he’s worried it’s all going to slip away— He had missed it so much.

 

He had missed being able to take Wonho _in_ , instead of taking what he remembered of him and rationing it out for every single day so he didn’t forget his eyes, or smile, or how his tears seemed to follow a specific route down his cheeks. He lets Wonho overwhelm him and pull him close and fit the crooked edges of their tired bodies together and he thinks, _some things exist just so Wonho can do them best._ He thinks people like him were born only to melt at Wonho’s every touch. He thinks, _I’m never letting you go again_.

 

(He has to eventually, but he begs Wonho’s scent to linger on him just _that_ much longer.)

 

When the chaos has died down and the crowd has cleared out, Shownu all but breaks into Wonho’s room. True to himself, he sits quietly in a corner, and Wonho can feel him watching, eyes intense as they follow the gauze and his fingers, trailing up and down the wounds on his best friend’s body. Wonho doesn’t meet his gaze, choosing to focus on the injuries instead. It feels... wrong. Every waking moment of the two years that Wonho was away, every little inch that his life took a step in any direction, his first and most painful instinct would be to share that with Shownu. (He swears it hurt more than a knife wound every time he remembered there was no way to do that. He swears it hurt every time he laughed and didn’t hear Shownu’s quiet chuckle echoing him. And he swears it hurt like _hell_ every time he reached out for a warm hand in the night and his fingers came back empty.) It feels wrong because, despite all of that, he has nothing to say. He’s crossed the land and the seas and back again, just seconds away from the man he’s been longing for, and now he’s tongue-tied. Funny how that works.

 

He startles a bit when Shownu’s fingertips brush his, but he relaxes into the touch. They sit there in the silence that slowly becomes comfortable again, fingertips pressed together in just the right way, pulses beating against each other as if sending a message through their veins: _I missed you. Will you come closer?_ Shownu complies with Wonho’s silent wish, shuffling closer, and Wonho feels the tears come charging up to the surface like soldiers marching to the frontlines. (Their enemy? His dignity.) He leans slightly backwards into Shownu’s space and wonders how the soft warmth of his body can burn up all of Wonho’s insides. Best friend withdrawal symptoms sure are bad.

 

Once again true to himself, Shownu hugs Wonho from behind without warning. It was welcome, but definitely not expected, and Wonho has to stop himself from accidentally maiming the well-meaning crown prince by instinct. In the panic, his needle slips from his hand and bounces off of his thigh. It doesn't pierce his skin, but it shocks him.

 

“Shit. Fuck.”

 

Wonho takes just a second to process his excellent choice of first words to say to his best friend after two years of not meeting him.

 

“Shit.” Shit. Wonho tries to hide his face in shame and decides to launch his head into Shownu’s abdomen instead. Soft tummy: best hiding spot. He smiles into Shownu, who rests his arms on Wonho’s back, rubbing circles into his muscles as if that’s what they’ve been doing all along. He hums and his tummy moves up and down with every breath and easily takes Wonho into the melody with him. 

 

Wonho adds this to the list of things he’s re-learning about him.

 

It’s like meeting Shownu for the first time all over again, and Wonho’s excited to cut and file down every jagged part of theirs until they fit seamlessly with each other again, to _memorise_ Shownu from the inside out again so he can tell a story just by reading a slight curl of his finger, to give back all of himself to his Prince. He had promised him that before he went to war: _I’ll give you everything._ Victories and continents weren’t enough. It’s never enough. Wonho will give him _everything._

 

He kisses Shownu’s stomach and straightens up at last, switching position so Shownu now lies on his lap. He runs his fingers through Shownu’s hair, looking at him properly for the first time since he got back. Shownu looks older, obviously, but is otherwise unchanged. His brows are stil raised high and forever questioning, his lips are full and red and inviting. _He’s beautiful_ , Wonho thinks, as his fingers map Shownu's smile. If he had died in the war, any bit of Shownu would have been a worthy justification. If he had died in the war, any time a breath of air slips past Shownu’s lips would have more than made up for his loss. Wonho thinks, if he ever dies for Shownu, any mourning for him should just be a celebration that Shownu lived. Because, _God_ , he is Godsent. And boy, does God send nice gifts. Shownu reaches up and holds Wonho's hands to his neck, and Wonho can just feel their pulses meet and start to align again. 

 

They spend the rest of the night in that position.

  
  



	2. Parting (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of looking back at the past (of Shownu and Wonho's relationship, of Hyungwon and Changkyun's relationship... and now Jooheon and Minhyuk)
> 
> The myth of the servant Minhyuk is introduced through Hyungwon's lens and it is very sad.
> 
> Shownu and Wonho's parting prior to the war is further elaborated on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! I think the first chapter was a little misleading as it seems like it is just a Showho fic but actually the fic will contain all of the monstas so don't worry HHAHAHA (and if ur here for showho... pls stick around till the end i promise they're there)  
> Take Hyungwon's perspective on the myth with a pinch of salt because I mean... It's just a myth after all!   
> Talk to me on twitter/tumblr @mongaygay and leave kudos/comments as you please (as in please leave comments HAHAA i need the encouragement)

Hyungwon had been confused by Changkyun at their very first lecture. 

 

He didn’t look like the kind of person to be interested in ancient artefacts and ruins of old kingdoms. He didn’t seem like he’d care about dead kings and old generals. But there he was: blonde, spiky, pierced, (kinda cute). He supposed he had no right to judge since he was only there for the extra credits. Hyungwon had realised he was staring when Blondie had turned around and caught his eye. He had whipped away quickly and hurried to the furthest empty seat, but when he had sat down he could still see Changkyun from the corner of his eye, leaning out of the exit talking to someone. 

 

Hyungwon remembers how hard he squeezed his eyes shut when he saw Kinda Cute Blondie walking in his direction. Embarrassing. He had stared as hard as he could at the hinges of the table in front of him as Changkyun dropped into a seat beside him. Can you feel stares? Because Hyungwon intensely remembers feeling the younger boy’s eyes boring into him as he adamantly pretended not to notice.  _ Well _ , he had thought,  _ let us both uninterested people sit here.  _

 

“How do you break up with someone?” Had been the first thing Changkyun had said to him, and then, “That guy doesn’t want me to take History. I don’t want to date assholes.” From that one-sided conversation Hyungwon had learnt several things about Changkyun. One, he wasn’t straight. Two, he  _ was _ the type to be interested in ancient history. Three, he was newly single. Hyungwon had shaken his head at the last thought.  _ So what _ , he had thought. 

 

Poor, innocent Hyungwon of the past; didn’t even know what was coming to him.

 

Now Hyungwon lies on Changkyun’s chest, the two boyfriends stacked up together with a thin blanket lying tenderly on the both of them. Comfy. Changkyun had thought it would be appropriate to watch a historical film about the Son Kingdom before they went. Of course he did. Hyungwon pulls Changkyun’s arms tighter around him and looks up at him. Still awake. Of course. Why would he fall asleep, knowing that Hyungwon’s just looking for an excuse to take a nap instead of watch? He pinches Hyungwon’s stomach when he feels him trying to get more comfortable. Hyungwon knows it without him having to say it out loud:  _ Don’t you dare fall asleep on me, Chae. _

 

They watch as the second prince falls in love with his servant, the poor servant, and watch as the King sparrs with his General, and Hyungwon can feel himself drifting off already. He keeps waking up after small snoozes to see that the movie has moved on a couple of scenes. Now the King was meeting a beautiful woman… now the servant was hurt… now… 

 

_ Hyungwon’s comfortable, hearing the clip clop of his horse’s hooves as they click onto the soil. Ahead he can see his King riding through the forest, the shaft of his sword occasionally patting his thighs that are swung over the horse. Changkyun turns around slightly and flashes him an easy smile, and Hyungwon wonders why his horse can’t move any faster. He runs after him as the forest thins out into the palace... Changkyun’s still too far ahead… He calls out soundlessly, sitting on his throne just inches away… still too far… The prince holds out a hand… teasing… Hyungwon kisses it. _

 

_ They’re in love? Hyungwon thinks. Changkyun runs a hand tenderly along Hyungwon’s collarbone, hooking the pads of his fingers over the end of his robes and pulling low over his shoulders… Hyungwon can feel his hairs stand on end. The prince’s attention… How many people would kill for it… and him, a servant… What a scandal. Spitting on the grave of the pureblood royals that have died so the Prince could be a prince… They kiss. _

 

_ The thunder is loud… Hyungwon thinks… only that’s not thunder. The door swings where it had been slammed open and he sees a servant run away towards the King’s room. Then everything’s just panic. He feels his prince being wrenched out of his arms and the robes slip off his back and he feels… bare. Then a murky liquid. He sees it slip past his lips and feels it go down… down. Down like the sword. He sees one… He sees the sword go through his heart. The poor servant, he thinks.  _

 

_ Huh?  _

 

Hyungwon feels his face sticky with tears and stirs awake. The movie was still playing, but he could hear Changkyun breathing steadily above him. He looks up just to see the King embrace his General before the screen went black. Did he just sleep through the whole film? He wipes his tears on his sleeve before sitting upright, careful not to wake his poor boyfriend. Why is he crying?

 

_ What a weird dream _ , he thinks. He was the general, but also the servant? Somehow.  _ The poor servant _ , he remembers thinking. But it had been  _ him _ . The servant and the prince… Could it be? It seems awfully foolish to consider it, but he thinks that he might have been dreaming of himself as… Minhyuk. Poor, sweet Minhyuk who had nothing to gain from loving the prince, who gave the prince all of himself and learnt, more than anyone else in the world, what betrayal felt like. Gentle and beautiful Minhyuk who fell victim to humanity’s most common crime: destroying good things. In those few seconds of the dream (they had felt like an eternity), Hyungwon had felt that pain like a knife. His feels sick. These days the myth of the Prince and his Servant was just that; more of a fiction than a history. It was what had drawn Hyungwon in to studying the Son Kingdom in the first place. 

 

The myth… It was just a myth. That’s what Hyungwon hopes, because even though it was centuries ago, he doesn’t think anyone should ever have been hurt like Minhyuk.

 

These days, Minhyuk was a symbol of beauty, of revolution. Hyungwon thinks it’s cruel to think that way. There was nothing beautiful about how Minhyuk was torn apart and hurt and treated. There’s nothing beautiful about that story… It was just pain. He rubs his hand along his chest, and it aches. It aches like the dull wound of a sword from ages past, and no matter how much he wills this phantom pain to go away, it continues plaguing him. What a night. Hyungwon’s eyes land on the cover of the DVD and for a moment he seems to make some sort of eye contact with Minhyuk on the cover. He flips it over onto its back and pushes it away. 

He wonders how much of the myth was real. 

 

_ Legend said that Minhyuk was a servant that lived in the Son Kingdom just before its fall. He was beautiful, striking, unreal. The birds chirped at his request and molten gold dripped wherever his fingers brushed. Many an angel would have cowered in shame. Officials, soldiers, royals all sought after him, but their pure-blood pride kept them. All the better for Minhyuk too, because their diamond encrusted fingers and greedy mouths knew only how to destroy and break.  _ __   
  


_ Minhyuk was soon appointed to be the personal servant of the Son Kingdom’s second prince Jooheon.  _

 

_ As royals go, Jooheon was actually very good. He was kind to Minhyuk, and warm, and soft, and as if Minhyuk didn’t know what he himself looked like he declared his prince to be the most beautiful boy in the world. He was in love. That’s what legend said. And what a love they shared. _

 

_ They were always together: out in the public eye where Jooheon walked regally ahead and Minhyuk followed him, smiling, head bowed and demure, or in the private ease of Jooheon’s chambers where Minhyuk’s head faced wherever Jooheon moved, like a sunflower following the sun, like he was always meant to look at him. Minhyuk had nothing, and so Jooheon was his everything, and Jooheon told him he meant so so much to him, and Minhyuk was happy with that. Minhyuk used to say that as long as his fingers could trail and brush and find their way along the lines of Jooheon’s body, he could find his way round and back around the world. That was the kind of love they shared.  _

 

_ Not for long. _

 

_ For the Second Prince of the immediate royal family to love a boy, and a low-class servant boy, no less, was unheard of, but immediately frowned upon. It wasn’t like they didn’t know they couldn’t do that. It wasn’t like they didn’t try to hide it. But alas, the walls were made of paper and wood, and nothing was more fragile than the false sense of security in a palace where smiles hid evil and fingers ended in sharp blades.  _

 

_ A servant, legend said, walked in on them, and their love was undeniable. It was a scandalous sight: Minhyuk, the servant, leaning over the Second Prince, hair swept to one side and fanning around his face as he bent down to press a kiss to his lips. Once the pair heard the loud footsteps of the servant running away, it was chaos. The King at the time, Jooheon’s father, was sought an audience with immediately, and the servant spilled everything.  _

 

_ The first terrible thing that happened was that Jooheon and Minhyuk were seperated. Jooheon, disgraced, ashamed, left to explain this mess straight to the wrathful face of his father himself. Minhyuk wasn’t given that chance, and was given several days with nothing to do other than to memorise what the inside of his jail cell looked like.  _ (He didn’t, he only worried about his prince.) 

 

_ The second terrible thing was that the prince got scared. He was young and afraid and his knees trembled as he bowed his head in front of his shouting father. In his jail cell a while away Minhyuk felt his heart beat hard and low in his chest as if Jooheon’s fear was his too.  _

 

_ And then the third and fourth terrible thing happened at once.  _

 

_ The King raised a hand high and threatening over Jooheon and just as his hand came down Jooheon blurted out, “It wasn’t my fault!”  _

 

_ And the King’s hand stopped. Right there. And then the fifth terrible thing was that there was no turning back. Jooheon couldn’t stop them, the  _ lies _. The story that arose out of fear and self-preservation and cowardice. They overpowered him. And suddenly Minhyuk was a demon, a seducer, and suddenly their love had been some act of evil trickery. And their kisses had been a disastrous side effect. _

 

_ The very next day Jooheon squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the begging, and the pleading, and the sharp unsheathing of the sword, and then the silence. He had never heard Minhyuk sound so scared.  _

 

_ They had accused Minhyuk of being the seed. The seed of evil that was to tear down the Kingdom. Somehow they had looked at this young, scared boy pleading and begging on his knees, with his hands lined with scratches and tear tracks burnt into his face… and they had had the nerve to call that evil. And Jooheon, poor Jooheon… He had just sat there. The demon-battling ritual was hard to watch and went on for the whole day. By the end of it, Minhyuk was barely there, just completely drained, occasionally letting out a dry sob, but for the most part, he was gone.  _

 

_ And  _ still _ he looked at Jooheon. At first he looked at him, loving, confused, hopeful. It was the first time he had seen him in days, and Jooheon looked healthy, and Minhyuk was happy. Being pulled into the court he had no idea what was coming, and he only longed to be in Jooheon’s arms. Poor, sweet, naive Minhyuk. Then he looked more panicked, and pleading, and his stare willed Jooheon to stop this act. And then the panic turned to realisation, and then anger, and then resignation. And  _ still _ he looked at Jooheon. _

 

_ The last thing he saw was Jooheon finally opening his eyes and meeting his gaze. _

 

Hyungwon would have been okay if the myth ended right there, but life hated him and history was always too sensational.

 

_ Legend said that because of the botched ritual, Minhyuk’s afterlife was disturbed, and he was not allowed to go in peace. Instead he was resurrected as an incubus, as exactly what they had accused him of. Sweet gentle Minhyuk was now filled with a lust for vengeance, and he went after everyone who had hurt him. _

 

_ The Son Kingdom was torn to shreds.  _

Legend says this… Legend says that.  _ Bullshit _ , Hyungwon thinks. He’ll find out more. He’ll find Minhyuk. 

 

-

 

The night before is always the worst. That’s what the First General had told Wonho. He thinks that he probably agrees. The past few weeks had been terrible, knowing that in a few days he would have to leave Shownu. Two years! He can’t even begin to process that amount of time. Just two seconds without his best friend was an eternity. Two years! 

 

They’ve been revelling in their time together, cherishing every second and determined to stretch it forever, cursing their eyes for blinking because they couldn’t see the other just for that moment. Now that it’s the last day everything they did before doesn’t seem to matter because there’s still so much left to do, and it’s the last night. Wonho feels his throat constricting, but wills himself not to cry. He can’t. Not right now. 

 

They lie in Shownu’s bed, tangled up together, fingers intertwined round and round each other as if that would stop the other from slipping away. 

 

“I don’t think I’d recognize my hands after a while of not touching you.”

 

A pause. Shownu laughs.

 

“Don’t be cheesy, Wonho.”

 

Wonho turns to face him, unabashed by the small width between their faces. He says, “I mean it.” He furrows his brows and pouts, seriously. Shownu closes his eyes and turns away to face up at the ceiling. His fingers squeeze around Wonho’s hands and he drags his hand up to his lips. He hears his best friend sigh in contentment.

 

“This kiss… It will last as long as you need it to. Your hands are mine as long as your heart is. Don’t think it will change so easily.” 

 

Immediately, Wonho sits up, snatching his hands back. 

 

“These hands… your hands… You don’t know what you’re talking about! These hands will fight. These hands will murder. I would  _ never _ let all that be yours.” His voice breaks halfway and Shownu is so so sorry but he doesn’t dare to touch him again. He sits up too, and faces him seriously.

 

So he says, “ _ You _ are mine, love. You always have been and always will be. This pain and this hurt and this cruelty these hands carry out for my cause, my father’s cause... I claim that too. All of you.” Wonho collapses into his arms and Shownu can feel his body rocking along with Wonho’s sobs, and he pats his head in silence. At some point their hands find each other again and Wonho falls asleep on his chest. 

 

There’s nothing much like the panic Shownu feels knowing that this is the last night he’s spending with Wonho before he heads off to war indefinitely (two years is a minimum, and Wonho is optimistic), and Wonho had already gone to sleep. He hopes that his pounding heart isn’t loud enough to wake Wonho, and follows the movement of Wonho’s stomach to return his breathing to normal. In… Out… In… Out.

 

He has never spent a single day without Wonho, and not a single day has ever gone by where he didn’t spend every waking moment with him. Could he even be a person without Wonho? He isn’t so much his other half as he is just him. Every cell and tissue and bone in his body has Wonho written into it, where since their very first meeting Wonho had taken root in him and spread until they couldn’t possibly be taken apart. He doesn’t usually cry, but Shownu feels the tears threaten to fall as he thinks of how the voice that says his name and the lips that press on his knuckles will soon be shouting hoarse commands on the battlefield, or letting out sobs like just now. Subconsciously, he squeezes Wonho’s hand tighter.

 

He wants to send all of himself with Wonho, and he had already snuck so much of himself into Wonho’s luggage. At random points during the war Wonho is going to find numerous personal belongings of Shownu’s, because the poor Crown Prince does not know how to let go. He had snuck in his headband, his necklaces and royal trinkets, some robes. He knows Wonho’s been leaving himself all over his room too and because Wonho was significantly worse at hiding things Shownu had already found several items. He thinks that it’s cute how Wonho thinks he doesn’t know. 

 

He’s thinking of how unobservant Wonho is when Wonho’s hands twitch in his and he suddenly has a brainwave. It has to be carried out immediately. He gently slips out of Wonho’s hold (painful) and pulls out a piece of parchment and some ink. _Wonho will be glad to find his,_ Shownu thinks. _If he ever finds it, that dumbass._ For a while, the room is just silce and the occasional sound of the quill scratching onto the parchment, and the only movement is Shownu’s hands as he writes away and whenever he licks his lips in excitement. Afterwards, he rubs off the ink stains onto his robes and crawls quietly back onto the bed with Wonho, lets their breaths align and falls asleep at last.  (In...Out… In… Out…)

 

-

  
Several days into the trip out of the capital, Wonho finds a letter in his luggage. It’s all he can do from shouting in joy when he sees the familiar handwriting (because it’d be shameful if the big scary Second General had started shouting like a toddler). Shownu’s handwriting: jumbled, titled, floating (above any imaginary line he should’ve had since he’s royalty and should have etiquette). He stares at it in disbelief, heart jumping up and down in his chest as if it’s trying to get out of his body to take a look too (how typical). 

 

The past few days had been hell. He couldn’t turn his head in any direction without being disappointed at not having Shownu appear in his peripheral vision, and he couldn’t breathe without feeling Shownu’s weighing down like rocks in his lungs. Now with the surprise letter in his hands, it’s like all of that never happened. He’s almost afraid to open it because he thinks then that will just be it for the whole time, and no more. But he has to. Shownu definitely wanted him to.

 

What’s inside is… sweet. Shownu never speaks much but Wonho reads every word as though it is a mile long paragraph and doesn’t even realise he’s clutching his heart. And then he flips to the next page and sees it.

 

Shownu, the sweetheart that he is, had traced his hand onto the paper, right on the last page. At the bottom he had written, “now you’ll always recognize your hand.” (Wonho has to push the letter away before his tears destroy it, but later that day he will press his hand over the outline and think,  _ this is why I love you. _ )

 

-

 

A few days later, the First General tells Wonho to get ready for the fight and asks him if he’s scared.

 

Wonho thinks back to that last night he spent with Shownu.

 

_ “If I die--”  _

_   
_ _ “Stop saying that.” Shownu had snapped, wiping Wonho’s tears away with the pads of his thumb. _

 

_ “Then tell me to come back. Tell me you want me to come back. That that is what you want me to do.” He had felt so needy, but he had to hear it. He needed a reason.  _

_ Shownu and sighed and then gripped his hand tighter, pulling his hands to his chest. Once he had let go Wonho had fallen to his knees at Shownu’s feet, pleading for him to give that one last order. _

 

_ At that moment, Shownu had titled his Wonho’s up to face him, and said seriously, _

_ “I want you to win this war. I want you to come back. I know you will.” _

 

_ “Because you told me to.” Wonho had replied. _

 

He turns to the other General and shakes his head. It’s hard to win, but it’s second nature to do as Shownu wishes. By  _ God _ , he was going to bring Shownu back a victory. 

 

He secures his sword and swings his leg up over his horse.

 

It’s time to go. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it... got a little sadder than i meant it to but I hope i am fleshing out showho's relationship well!  
> i promise i will write in Changkyun's perspective soon so sorry HAHA  
> and. joohyuk's perspectives will come soon
> 
> hope u enjoyed :DDDDDD
> 
> talk to me on twitter/tumblr @mongaygay


	3. Hiding and Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The character of Kihyun is introduced for the first time! (and there's somebody he doesn't like very much)  
> In this chapter we explore relationships and their dynamics, especially Hyungwon and Changkyun, and Shownu and Wonho   
> Also Joohyuk makes its first proper appearance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY it took so long to be updated!! Hope you enjoy this chapter and look out for some foreshadowing action HAHAHAHA  
> Have fun!!!

Changkyun thinks that he and Hyungwon are meant to be. 

 

He had always spent his life giving and giving up until he had met Hyungwon. He would give all of himself to every love he had and when it ended he’d just make himself a new self and move on with life as if he was just born yesterday. Rinse. Repeat. It was… tiring, to say the least. Every love would represent loss and draining and then he’d be nothing until his heart decided to beat hard after someone’s scent, or laugh, or step again. 

 

Hyungwon taught him to take. And it wasn’t like Changkyun didn’t give all of himself to Hyungwon either, because all of himself is what Hyungwon deserves and less. But with Hyungwon who always held him by the hand and not the wrist, he learnt that giving could be taking too. He would give Hyungwon his love and loves and interest and interests, and they would share him like they shared every part of their lives. Changkyun would give and give and give like he always did but Hyungwon would take it, treasure it, make it better, and they would keep whatever it was like a shared secret between them that no one else knew. (Not that Hyungwon didn’t always want to show Changkyun off to everyone, of course.)

 

“Baby,” Hyungwon says, gesturing him over to him. “Take a look at this.” 

 

The tree that Hyungwon stands in front of is… strange. Changkyun had walked past it when he first came into the courtyard, but he hadn’t noticed it properly before. It’s about the size of a regular tree, its branches extending just enough to head towards the sky, looking as though it were planted just decades ago. But its roots tell a much different story. He sees Hyungwon kneel down and run his hands along the roots that extend through the soil and snake towards the walls.  _ It must be centuries old _ , Changkyun feels like he can hear Hyungwon think. Its roots clasp and grope at the soil as if it is theirs to hold, but its leaves and branches boast all the freshness of a younger tree. That’s… weird? But everything about the Son Kingdom grounds is weird. It’s a frighteningly empty place where the atmosphere hangs heavy with all the serenity and terror of a curse.  _ Well _ , Changkyun thinks,  _ they are cursed, aren’t they? _ He can almost feel the curse passing its spirit like smoke through the grounds. He and Hyungwon are the only ones to face it, now.

 

(He sees Hyungwon try to lean on a branch and trip over. Clumsy, he thinks. They continue.)

 

-

 

Wonho can’t stop talking now. 

 

Just yesterday he had gone through the whole day only having uttered two very regrettable words to his best friend. Now he is trying to explain two whole years with the words he is so bad at and flailing his arms that are so sore. But it’s fine. Every time Shownu smiles at him he feels like every moment spent in war is being made up for. They sit in Shownu’s quarters together and Wonho’s still aching all over and has wounds that beg to be treated, but Shownu is smiling at him and Wonho realises that the physician can wait. 

 

He can’t stop talking, but Shownu doesn’t mind.

 

“I met a bear in the woods,” He told Shownu, “and it acted just like you!” He sees the prince’s mouth form an O as he leans forward, then he laughs. So far the talk about the war has been going lightheartedly, and Shownu looks so relieved. Wonho had seen the apprehension in Shownu’s eyes; he’d seen the worry, that whatever Wonho had experienced in the war would be too much to handle. Earlier that day when Wonho had come into the room, he had seen Shownu tense up.  _ God that hurt _ . So even now, as Wonho rambled on, a vault was still locked in the back of his mind.  _ Don’t hurt him, don’t hurt him, don’t hurt him. _ Omission, he had been taught, was not pardonable.  _ All of me is for him, no omissions, no exceptions, no excuses. _ And there are  _ so _ many things he wants to tell Shownu, about the rainy nights in the forest where his legs refused to move and he still had to march on, of the swords that went just east of his chest and grazed along his sides, and about… But he was also taught that he can’t do anything to ever harm Shownu, and he would never allow himself to make Shownu take his burdens. All these sudden chills or the way his heart sinks at random memories. All these gashes and all the terror every time he hears a scream. He’d never be that selfish. (But he’s doing this so Shownu will laugh for him, is that selfish too?)

 

Shownu tells him about the things that have happened in the palace in his absence, the changes, the nothings. He tells him about the new servants, the flowers that were picked, the rain that fell. But he also tells him the second prince who’s now grown up and beginning to command the kingdom’s political scene. Wonho remembers the baby-faced boy who used to try to sneak into military drills all the time, who clutched his hand and begged him to take him along two years ago puffing up his chest claiming he was strong enough.  _ It’s remarkable how things can change so much in just two years. _ Jooheon, a prince who’s settled into his robes and no longer longed for the sword, a man now at the forefront of political decisions in their kingdom… It’s almost hard to believe. (Wonho almost doesn’t want to believe it, as if accepting it would mean accepting that the two years really had gone by without him.) He makes a mental note to go and see Jooheon later.

 

“How’s the general?” 

 

The question hangs in the air long and awkward before Wonho finally can answer. 

 

“I don’t think… I’m not sure.” It’s the truth. Ever since they had arrived back, the general has been holed up in his room being attended to by numerous physicians who kept exiting and shaking their heads. He had suffered a particularly deep cut right across his waist that wouldn’t seem to stop bleeding. Wonho is… worried, to say the least. And ashamed. They had been back to back in battle and still he hadn’t managed to stop the sword that slashed at his only father figure. What kind of general… He had heard the sword cut across the air and then the next thing he could see was all the blood. (There was so much blood.) Wonho can’t meet Shownu’s eyes.

 

“You do know it’s not your fault, right?”

Wrong.  _ What do you know?  _ Wonho bites back all his contempt. Of course he doesn’t know. That’s the whole point. That’s the goal. These misunderstandings and miscommunications and maybe even that sudden feeling of disdain just now… That’s all just proof that Wonho is serving his purpose. Shownu never has to know the feeling of the frost crackling on his chapped lips or the cramp in his fingers in the morning after realising he’s been clutching the sword the whole night. _ (Omission, omission, omission.)  _ There are some things he just shouldn’t know. Like fear, like pain.

 

He is about to reply when there is a soft voice at the door: a servant announcing the arrival of a physician. That’s odd. Wonho doesn’t recall calling for one.

 

But one enters anyway, dressed in soft pink robes and head bowed.

 

-

 

Kihyun feels awkward stepping into the Crown Prince’s room, but it has to be done. The Second General has wounds that were threatening to kill him, but he had been adamant in his refusal to get treatment in favour of visiting his prince instead.  _ Stupid, predictable. _ Kihyun has no choice. He ignores the whiny surprise in the general’s face and kneels beside him to treat his wounds.  _ So I’m the asshole because I won’t let him die, huh.  _ He begins to sew up Wonho’s wounds, watching in petty satisfaction as he lets out hisses of pain while trying to keep up a calm image in front of the Crown Prince. Kihyun realises he forgot to, so he just sends a swift half-bow in the prince’s direction before turning back to Wonho. The prince looks cold, his face unreadable and his stance formidable, and he keeps his eyes trained onto Kihyun’s hands. Kihyun wonders if this is really how he is going to meet royalty for the first time. 

 

He continues anyway. He doesn’t have time to deal with cold Crown Princes when the General is in front of him  _ trying _ to bleed to death. He leaves Wonho to dab at his own wounds with cotton while he prepares the gauze and bandages.  _ Can’t you take care of yourself?  _ Of course, there’s no real contempt there. It’s not like Kihyun was even capable of being upset with him, not while he existed with his soft dimples and large protective arms that… nevermind. They lock eyes for just a second as Kihyun wraps the bandages around Wonho’s arm. (Kihyun feels himself start melting.) He coughs and immediately turns away to begin packing up his materials, muttering something barely coherent about how he would just come back later, as he quickly turns to get up. Without warning, Wonho places his hand on Kihyun’s. Kihyun isn’t even allowed a minute to react before he feels the mood in the room shift. It feels like the air was sliced through with a sword, how sudden it was.

 

Slowly, he turns his head. There it is. The change. Kihyun hates himself for getting annoyed at Shownu’s previously cold expression because he would choose that over his current expression any day. Shownu is glaring at him, all the rage and fury of a future king concentrated in his eyes, and his head tilts just a slight to the left. Threatening. Questioning.  _ How dare you? _ He seems to ask. His eyes trail their way down towards where Wonho’s hand rested on Kihyun’s and then back up to meet his eyes again. 

 

Is he… jealous? 

 

Kihyun feels Wonho pull away almost immediately, and only then he begins to realise what he was in the middle of.  _ It wasn’t me that the prince was glaring at, was it? _ Shownu’s eyes followed everywhere someone else touched Wonho… without permission from him. Kihyun had been running his hands along someone that was inherently… Shownu’s. He feels trapped by Shownu’s glare.  _ What did I get myself into?  _ The sacred bond. The pillar of the Son Kingdom. The prince and the general reuniting after two years of separation… and here he is right in the midst. Shownu blinks and Kihyun sees Wonho react immediately as though it had been an order, nodding and moving away. Even in the aftermath of his own mistake Kihyun feels removed from the communication in the room.  _ What’s happening?  _ Wonho won’t meet his eyes, but shifts closer to Shownu instead. 

 

“Kihyun, I think you should leave.”

 

He quickly excuses himself. As he turns to leave, he sees Wonho kneel beside Shownu as the prince runs the pad of his thumb over his lips, and he sees Wonho close his eyes and sigh into the touch. They don’t even watch Kihyun leave. 

 

Every facet of what just happened slowly comes back to call Kihyun a fool. He walks around aimlessly outside of the crown places quarters just so he’d be able to walk off the embarrassment… and the indignance. Wonho was the one who held his hand, right? They hadn’t met since they arrived back in the palace yesterday, so it was just a greeting. It didn’t mean anything. Stupid crown prince. 

 

Stupid Wonho.

 

Kihyun squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to stop himself from remembering, but the images come back anyway. Walking in, to see Wonho kneeling at Shownu’s side as if he didn’t have injuries that threatened his life, laughing as if the tears didn’t build up in his eyes just from the pain of it… that hurt for Kihyun. Not as much as sitting right there with the two of them while an entirely silent conversation happened with him right on the outside of it. Not as much as seeing Wonho’s eyes flutter shut at Shownu’s touch, pressing his cheek into the prince’s palm as though he was a pet chasing the warm affection of its owner, pulling off a pathetic facade of purity and friendship as though he wasn’t trained to give up his life for this man who gave nothing back. But it didn’t hurt Kihyun as much as it pissed him off. 

 

Kihyun decides he doesn’t like Shownu very much, just as he walks into a tree.

 

The tree. The sacred tree of the Son Kingdom, for as long as the king would rule. It represented the strength of the kingdom: the sacred bond between the King and the General, the general’s undying devotion for his king. It is planted as soon the General to be was born, but is the King’s tree.  _ How fitting _ , Kihyun thinks. He makes sure to give it a good kick as he walks away, for hurting him and for Wonho’s sake. (It’s beautiful though, even he has to admit that.)

 

“You probably shouldn’t do that.” 

 

_ Am I going to die? _

 

He spins around completely prepared to see the royal guards waiting to put him in chains but only sees a boy about his age. He’s taller than Kihyun (just a little) and is dressed in the finest silks that he’s only seen the royals dressed in. Oh. A prince? Kihyun does a sort of awkward half-bow and sees the other boy wave it off. And then he smiles. Oh god, Kihyun thinks. He has to physically take a step back. He could’ve lived in that smile forever. It takes him a while to remember to reply.

 

“Yeah… I… That was an accident?” 

 

“Are you asking me?”

 

Kihyun laughs as though he isn’t facing potential execution for treason. The boy seems nice enough, and he’s also absolutely gorgeous. If it weren’t for the potential punishment looming over his head, he could’ve enjoyed the moment. (He does.) He already likes him, and he doesn’t even know his name yet. Kihyun can’t help but stare, from the gold thread that embroiders flowers into the silk that flows around his wrists, the silver that snakes along his wrist and around his fingers, thin and dainty, the silk band that wraps tight around his waist. A prince. He has to be. 

 

“It was an accident.” Then the other boy laughs, and Kihyun doesn’t want to hear another sound again. It seems like he is made to be admired, since in a seconds-long interaction Kihyun already wants to give the world to him as if it is his in the first place. Who  _ is _ this boy?

 

(A prince, a prince, a prince. He  _ has _ to be.)

 

The boy turns to leave and Kihyun thinks he should chase him.

 

He doesn’t.

 

(He  _ has _ to be a prince.) 

 

-

 

Jooheon is sleeping when Minhyuk enters his quarters. 

 

He stands over the prince, and can’t help but smile.  _ He’s so cute. _ He sleeps firm and grounded as if he’ll never wake up, comfortable and deep as though he never has to. And still it looks so precious, fragile as though a single touch should awaken him. And he  _ snores _ , light and heavy at the same time, his chest rising and falling as like the waves. Minhyuk loves it, and keeps stopping to laugh as he walks about the room doing his chores. He actually can’t handle it, with every sound and little fidget from Jooheon begging him to go over and kiss the poor boy. He rushes to finish the chores before he can finally stay with the prince.

 

(He rushes. Really hard.)

 

Finally!

 

He sits beside him, running his hands through Jooheon’s hair and pushing it out of his face. Jooheon gives him a sort of grunt as a response but doesn’t wake up.  _ He’s so cute _ , Minhyuk thinks. He leans over him and presses their foreheads together, so the gap between them is insignificant enough to forget. (Jooheon’s mouth is hanging open.)  _ I want to kiss you, are you dreaming of me? _ He stays there for awhile just to take in Jooheon’s presence. 

 

And then Jooheon snores and Minhyuk laughs so hard he’s worried Jooheon will jolt awake.

 

(He doesn’t.)

 

The rest of Jooheon’s nap, Minhyuk kneels next to him, watching over. Jooheon’s beautiful, he really is. The most beautiful boy in the world. He’s made to be loved, Minhyuk thinks. His lips are made to be kissed and his hands are made to be held. (Minhyuk links their fingers together, praying Jooheon wouldn’t wake up.) His eyelids droop shut and invite soft kisses pressed over them and his soft skin invites cuddling. Minhyuk can’t stop staring. He’d look at him forever if he could. 

 

_ I’d look at you until my world falls to ashes. _

 

(A second later, Jooheon slowly opens his eyes and gives him a drowsy kiss.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments <3<3 I'd really like to know what you think so far and what you're excited/curious about
> 
> remember I can be found on twitter @mongaygay and on tumblr as @buttbebe


	4. Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A further look into Jooheon and Minhyuk from various lenses, and an exploration of the curse and the Son Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!! I hope you enjoy this focus on Joohyuk and it's not too confusing :-(( Hope you enjoy and tell me what you think or wonder about in the comments or anywhere else!!

Kihyun desperately needs friends.

 

The boy earlier had been nice enough, and Kihyun was certainly… interested. And Kihyun had desperately needed friends so he had decided the only way to get them was to grab them himself. 

 

And then he was back in the corridor that stretched along the royal quarters, right where he had just escaped from barely a few minutes ago. He had just followed the direction he had seen the pretty boy go in, right past the servants’ rooms and through the garden, back onto a familiar path. So he  _ is _ a prince.

 

Kihyun had wandered through the halls, avoiding eye contact with all the guards and servants that passed him. Wonho had told him not to be bothered by their glances; he was under his protection anyway. Still, it is Kihyun’s first time in the palace and even the rattan hats of the gardeners and the worn clothes on the servants seemed to mock him. (He really desperately needs friends.)

 

And now… Now he’s here, standing awkwardly behind the crack of the wood and paper door, not knowing what it was exactly that he was seeing. 

 

The boy from before leans over another boy, smaller, (rounder), softer, whose eyes are weighed down with the drowsiness of sleep, they’re lips locked in the softest of kisses. Even hidden in the shadows of paper doors and protected by the innocence of accidental discovery he feels like he’s intruding into something very, very private, like his presence alone, insignificant as it is, is hostile in its nature. He can’t turn away though, and watches on as the two boys find each other’s hands without looking, their fingers fumbling in the most graceful version of the word, meeting, holding. It’s a moment, just a moment, like time had stopped right there to save it in its heart of hearts. All of it, the calm, the tentativeness, the chastity of the kiss, all of it tells Kihyun one thing:

 

He’s not supposed to be here.

 

He steps back quickly. Too quickly. He hears the sound of the cup crack under his feet before he feels the crunch through the cloth of his shoes. It’s too loud for him to ever hope that the other two didn’t hear it too, so he just stands there, foot perched precariously over the threateningly painful ceramic shards, eyes squeezed shut as if that’d make him invisible too.  _ Oh god, Wonho hyung, save me… _ And another thought:  _ Who in the world decided to leave a  _ cup  _ out here? _ And then his ears unblock with a pop and he hears footsteps coming his way.

 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

 

“Oh hey, tree-kicker.” Kihyun hesitantly opens one eye and peeks up to see the pretty boy standing in front of him with his arms on his hips, leaning down to meet Kihyun where he is hunched. Shaking, shocked, and embarrassed as hell, he stands up to his full (and very  _ little _ , he realises with anguish) height, coughing to clear the atmosphere, brushing himself off. 

 

“Um. Hi, pretty stranger I followed here. I’m so sorry.” That’s worse, Kihyun. You do know how that’s  _ worse _ , right? He laughs again and feels it catch just a little in his throat and turns away. 

 

Pretty boy laughs with him and then brushes a strand of hair away from Kihyun’s face as if that’s just a thing strangers do. And then, finally, a name.

 

“My name’s Minhyuk.” 

 

Kihyun blinks and lets the name wash over every bit of Minhyuk, and almost clicks his teeth out loud because it just doesn’t seem right. Minhyuk. It’s too common a name for someone who seems so unusual to him, so unlike every other person he had met since stepping foot into the Son Kingdom. There’s just something about Minhyuk that’s so strange, and it disarms Kihyun. He can’t really place what it is, and he doesn’t know if he should.

 

“You’re Kihyun.”

 

Huh? 

 

He blinks and looks up to meet Minhyuk’s eyes, having to take a step back (involuntarily) when he sees them closer to his than he thought, flecked with brown and grey and  _ knowing _ . He  _ knows _ , and Kihyun is terrified of it. 

 

What is it with the people here and their long stares and their unwelcoming companies and how they all make Kihyun feel like an intrusion with every move he makes? Well, they’re not wrong exactly, are they? Kihyun clenches his fist, willing the shudder that runs down his spine stop in its tracks and visibly convulsing instead. He pushes out his chest just slightly, defensively, begging Minhyuk to look away, please. Even the silence is unwelcoming. 

 

He knows. Kihyun just knows it. He knows that Minhyuk knows, and he’s frightened of what Minhyuk would do about it. He knows, he knows, he knows, he knows that-

 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Yoo Kihyun of the South.” 

 

Kihyun thinks of bolting.

 

-

 

There’s really no one here. 

 

Just the dust and the silence and the dead leaves and the shadows that seem to flick over the windows when no one seems to be looking… Nothing more. Hyungwon feels the distance between himself and Changkyun like an enemy, and wants nothing more than to stick close to the only other person miles around, but they have a job to do. There’s something weird about this place, about how the dust seems to just hang in the air, unmoving, how there isn’t a single sound except for his own footsteps and Changkyun’s flitting here and there, how the floorboards creak without him feeling anything moving under his feet. This whole place is unwelcoming and his every movement intrudes on the overwhelming staticity of the grounds and it’s all so dead, somehow. Dead… in that fresh, terrifying way that seems so brand new, like the curse had taken it just that day. 

 

This place really makes you overthink.

 

Curse… Curse… Curse…  _ What a load of crap _ , Hyungwon thinks. The country was badly run and the generals were fools whose hands reached for the sword always rather than the shield, in love with their kings who never deigned to lift a finger even for the scrolls or brushes. You didn’t need a curse to break a Kingdom that fragile. It was falling apart already. He sees Changkyun pull a curtain around himself when he thinks he’s unseen, blinking regally and floating around play-acting as a prince. Of course, his romanticist boyfriend had his own views about the curse. 

 

Changkyun is and has always been drawn to stories. That’s what had gotten him interested in the Son Kingdom in the first place. It was legend, it was history, it was intrigue. Hyungwon has had to hear, many times, how fascinated he was by the irony of it all. They destroyed to preserve, they conquered to protect, they ruined to maintain. The perfect mirror of human nature where fear would always drive you to become the very thing you run from, and then the nearest innocent would take the fall and you die before you realise there was nothing to fear in the first place. The elites of the Son Kingdom had run screaming from their own hands, the same hands that poisoned, and cheated, and pointed fingers. And the biggest irony of all, it was a seed.  _ A seed… destruction? Get it? _ Hyungwon lets the joke play out in his imagination and chuckles. His boyfriend really is cute. 

 

Across, the room, said boyfriend has rolled out of the curtains and is now kneeling beside a cabinet they hadn’t looked through before. He must have just pulled it out of its hiding place. Hyungwon rolls up his sleeve and walks over as Changkyun hauls it into the middle of the room with a huff.  _ Okay, prince Jooheon, what do you have to hide… _

 

Surprisingly, it opens easily. Hyungwon guesses that this poor naive idiot probably was complacent in the untouchability of his position and the safety of his room. The only person looking at his stuff other than himself would just be Minhyuk, right? Hyungwon and Changkyun both cough out a lung each before they can even take a look at the cabinet’s contents, flapping their hands vigorously and blindly in the air to clear the cloud of dust that had risen from the drawer like volcanic ash. This place feels so recent that Hyungwon keeps having to remind himself that no one has lived here in centuries. He feels the day-old chill resurface along his arms and has to shake off the feeling of death that so adamantly clings onto every hair of his that stands on end. Ugh.

 

Changkyun dives into the contents first, and they empty the things out onto a soft surface. Jewelry, ornaments, and letters all fall out onto the mattress they had laid out. Then, almost like an afterthought, a thin, probably empty pouch. He knows it before it happens. He sees his boyfriend give him a manipulatively cute pout before it turns into a greedy grin, grabbing as much of the contents as he could hold in his tiny little hands before running off to look at it on his own. Oh they have fun, alright. He turns back to the measly amount Changkyun had left for him… just the pouch. Okay, he  _ is _ whipped, but not  _ that _ whipped. He chases Changkyun to the end of the room and they spend a while in a wrestle before Hyungwon tickles the letters out of his greedy, grubby little hands, and runs off victoriously.  _ Now _ they’re even. 

 

The letters are what he was aiming for in the first place. Words tell him much more than any object can. He’s always been the writer of the two anyway.  _ Now, who was writing to poor Jooheon? _ He unfolds the parchment with careful gloved hands to see pretty handwriting in ancient lettering. He’s never been really good at decoding the ancient languages, and this letter is… long. He’s going to need a while to decode it fully, but he scans it first. 

 

“Jooheon,” he mumbles at loud, reading the top line of the text. “Ee?” 

 

Jooheon-ie. 

 

His eyes skip past everything he doesn’t understand immediately, so he gets through the letter quickly, picking up bits and pieces of meaning along his way.  _ The weather… nice… can’t wait for you… too young… climb tree… throne… two years… too young… the war.  _ Which war? Hyungwon pinches the bridge of his nose. This never gets easier, but from what he can tell (he can’t tell much), this letter was from the last general of the Son Kingdom, Wonho. He had signed off right at the bottom next to the official military scroll. He must have sent it while fighting one of the many, many wars. His eyes flitted back up to the top of the parchment. Jooheon-ie. They must have been close. 

 

For the rest of the three letters, he only glanced to check the sender before putting it away. He’s too tired to decode ancient languages right now. Another one from Wonho, one from someone who’s name he can’t make out and doesn’t recognize, one from the last king of Son Kingdom, Shownu.  _ What kind of brothers need to write to each other when they live in the same goddamn castle grounds? _ He tsks at them before putting the letters into a carefully sealed ziploc and then into his bag. Now for that stupid, godforsaken pouch that he’s pretty sure is empty.

 

Across the room Changkyun is having a much better time looking through the trinkets and ornaments and feeling rich. He throws a rolled up piece of trash in his direction. D _ umbass _ .

 

He settles nicely into a comfortable corner of the room to either check the contents of the pouch or to take a nap, depending on whether there is anything in the pouch or not. He pulls the string gently and overturns the pouch in front of him. A bunch of scrap parchment falls out. What the fuck? Did the second prince of the Son Kingdom, commander of the political scene, the famous prince of the Minhyuk scandal, seriously just keep a pouch filled with trash in a hidden cabinet?

 

Wait. The famous prince of the  _ Minhyuk _ scandal.

 

He quickly snatches up one of the scraps from where they had been dumped onto the bed. There’s writing on it, pretty and trailing and simple. He won’t need hours to decode these. He reads the first one he picked up. 

 

“I dreamt of you last night.” 

 

What? He picks up the next one. 

 

“Can I kiss you later?”

 

Next.

 

“My head hurt today but I feel better because you smiled at me.”

 

They’re not letters, not really. Just… little notes. They’re just thoughts, Minhyuk’s thoughts, and from what it seemed like Jooheon had been kind enough to keep all of Minhyuk’s thoughts safe here.  _ Funny.  _ He didn’t keep any other part of Minhyuk safe. _ Funny how that works, when you treasure only the attention you get from someone who’s so devoted to you.  _ Hyungwon has to pull away from the pouch before he rips it in his long, weak, angry fingers. 

 

This place really is so dead, Hyungwon can’t help but think again, mind drifting back and forth but centering closely around the pretty boy whose letters he held tight. It’s… sweet. He once again wonders how the kingdom elites had pinned any ill intent onto Minhyuk. These tiny, tiny scraps of paper were pieces of his mind. It makes him all the more real to Hyungwon. These pathetic, loving scraps of cheesy writing to a man who would later kill him were exactly what made up Minhyuk all those centuries ago, and here he stands, years later, holding them in his hand like they were meant for him. He’s almost disgusted. What right did he have to dissect him like that? 

 

No. That’s not what he’s doing. He’s putting back the pieces of the legend to make something real. He’s going to find Minhyuk, even if it meant taking him from Jooheon because honestly, what right did Jooheon have to him? He glares hard at the pouch of scraps until his eyes hurt and ignores the disgust at himself that bubbles up. What right did he have… His eyes land on another note.  _ Good morning, I want to hold your hand but you’re in a meeting and I’m cleaning. _ He fights the urge to rip it into pieces. 

 

That’s just what this place does to people, he supposes. Changkyun seems fine, though. 

 

This place really is so dead.

 

It’s dead, still, unmoving. Unmoving. Like it stopped on the day the Son Kingdom fell, like it’s lived the events over and over until the memory burns fresh into the architecture that clearly hasn’t been lived in for centuries. It’s a cycle, Hyungwon fears. It’s a curse paused in its tracks, a cycle of destruction going on and on and on again.

 

This time, Hyungwon fears that it might take himself and Changkyun with it. 

 

(He thinks he sees the tree from before shift in the shadows.)

 

-

 

Jooheon lies on Minhyuk’s lap, feeling his hums run through his thighs and wash over him. He keeps getting poked, and then when he responds all he gets is, “Jooheon-ie”. Incessant whining. He loves it so, so much. If a pretty boy let you lie on his lap and reminded you every second that he loved your attention, you’d fall pretty easily too. He’s a fall risk, obviously, when it comes to pretty boys. He smiles up at Minhyuk and purses his lips until Minhyuk bends down and he leans up and their lips meet in the middle, and then he rests a hand on Minhyuk’s cheek and has a feeling that Minhyuk never wants to pull away. 

 

They do anyway, because they always have to, and he gets up off of Minhyuk, because he always has to, and he throws a glance over his shoulder, because he always has to, and they sit in the comfortable silence for a while.

 

“Jooheon-ie…”

 

It’s only been a few seconds, he thinks, as he nods up at him only for Minhyuk to blow him a kiss and then say nothing as always.  _ What a dumbass, I love him. _ Jooheon turns away so Minhyuk doesn’t get a chance to see him smiling like an idiot, holding his hand back from touching his cheek where the “kiss” hit it by sheer force of will.  _ Love makes you dumb _ , he reassures himself. 

 

And god, they are so dumb in love. It’s almost crazy. Just earlier that day they had been walked in on by the new royal physician, their lips locked unquestionably in a kiss. Jooheon had almost panicked, but Minhyuk had immediately just walked to the door, shared a few quiet words, and then the guy had just walked away with no further questions. He had decided then that he was both appreciative of and terrified of Minhyuk.  _ How does he do it… _ He supposes it doesn’t matter how Minhyuk does things, as long as whatever he does he’s on the same side of him. That’s the beauty of love, he thinks, and shifts closer to the older boy. 

 

“Hyung,” He calls him quietly, and waits for Minhyuk to blink at him in response, (one, two), “I realised you’ve never met Wonho hyung before.” Minhyuk shakes his head, “No, I was assigned to you after the war began, remember?” Jooheon tries to wrap his mind around the concept that two people so important to him, so crucial to his life, didn’t play any part at all in each other’s lives, and then gives up. He doesn’t have to understand, he just has to change it. He pulls Minhyuk closer to himself.

 

“You know, you’ve never told me anything about him before. Or anything about yourself from before the war began.”

 

Jooheon thinks about this. 

 

After the war had begun, he had spent so much time ( _ wasted _ so much time) on sulking and moping about how he was left behind. He had wasted so much time on being angry and hurt before Minhyuk had been assigned to him and the older boy had been (and still is) so, so beautiful, and then Jooheon had realised fully what it meant to never want to lose someone. And then he stopped being angry and hurt and sad because he realised that all of that had just been… fear. Fear of abandonment and helplessness but most of all, of losing people he held dear. Loving Minhyuk showed him that. Learning to fear and to recognize fear was what made him stop running around all day trying to prove himself to everyone and focus his attention on words and touches and instead of tangible brutality. He supposes that that’s why he never told Minhyuk about himself before the war. First he had been too busy being mad at that himself, and then he had turned into someone else completely. There wasn’t much he wanted to talk about.

 

Those 2 years had felt like forever. He wonders what the old Jooheon would have thought about how he is today. He would probably have called me a coward, he thinks. Then he thinks about Wonho. What would Wonho think? He hasn’t met him since the ceremony, and all of Wonho’s attentions had been focused on Shownu then. Well, they are always on Shownu, but Jooheon likes to think he’s stolen a bit of those affections from time to time. He wonders if Wonho had thought about him all those years, or even after he had come back yesterday, if he’d noticed how much he’d grown. He wonders if he had grown, really.

 

He realises he hasn’t replied to Minhyuk. 

 

“Can I tell you about Wonho hyung instead?” 

 

Minhyuk smiles at him and nods. 


	5. General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on Wonho, the fundamental character in this whole fic, and his relationships with those around him, parting the veil on the uglier parts of his connection to the Crown Prince, and his role as the General.

Yoo Kihyun is still reeling.

 

He’s still reeling from the strangest, most terrifying conversation he had had since he came to the Son Kingdom, held with one Lee Minhyuk. His hand rests over his chest where his heart is still trying to pound itself to death as he thinks back to the whole ordeal.

 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Yoo Kihyun of the South.” 

 

He had just stared blankly at the other boy, blinking, blinking, and if he had kept his mouth hanging open any longer he might’ve felt the drool splatter on his feet.  _ How does he know how does he know how does he know how does he… _ Kihyun had wanted to run but his feet planted themselves into the ground like they had grown roots and even Minhyuk’s skinny frame had seemed unescapable. 

 

“So it looks like we all have things to hide, yes?” Minhyuk had said, tilting his head in a perfect and hopefully unintentional echo of the crown prince. Kihyun couldn’t help his involuntary full body shudder. The light that shone off of the silver twined along Minhyuk’s wrist had almost blinded Kihyun, and it was only Kihyun’s adamant will that kept him from turning away and losing this stare-down. He felt a hand grip his insides and twist, phantom sweat trickling down the small of his back and every inch of his body losing feeling. He didn’t even feel himself nodding, but apparently did since Minhyuk continued speaking. 

 

“What you saw…” He thought he might have seen Minhyuk’s expression shift, something like warmth settle over his furrowed brows just for a second, but it was gone as soon as it had come. Minhyuk shook his head, “No. You didn’t see anything, alright?”  The gears were turning in Kihyun’s head, and boy, they were rusty. He almost tripped over his feet as he unwillingly takes a step back, and he thinks his knees might give out. Of course he didn’t see anything; it’s not like he wanted to in the first place. He was just trying to make one friend in the godforsaken palace, not get tangled up in a royal romantic web of scandal, and it wasn’t  like he wasn’t scandalous enough on his own. 

 

“Really?” Minhyuk asked, and Kihyun had a vague, passing thought, that it wasn’t as powerful of a “Really?” as it should have been for the whole threatening situation he was in. And then he had another thought, and it wasn’t flitting by this time, that told him to shut up because he wasn’t in any place to tell Minhyuk how to use his power, seeing as he was already appropriately terrified, anyway. (His hand shook violently where it hung by his side almost as if to prove his point.)

 

It was at that very inappropriate moment that Kihyun had gotten fixated on his eyes, the fluttering of one lid shut after another, slowly, carefully, and then on the desperation lying beneath the hostile layers, the way his knitted brows betrayed fragility instead of a threat, and his hand fidgeted where it was. Something clicked in Kihyun; Minhyuk was  _ scared _ . That was it. He shook his head, this time vaguely feeling it, and stepped out of the imaginary corner he had been pushed into. 

 

He finally felt like he could breathe again, just slightly. But the question remained, how? How did he…

 

Minhyuk was biting his lip and still shifting slightly when Kihyun turned around, and Kihyun couldn’t help but think how funny the whole situation was. Two terrified servant boys dressed way above their wage threatening each other to cover their own asses. If his wasn’t one of the asses he would have laughed. He considered for a while, then said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, “I’m not going to tell anyone, I promise.” (He felt stupid, honestly, because when he had seen the two of them kissing his immediate priority had just been to leave them alone, but he kept forgetting he was in a different country now. Things were different in the Son Kingdom, more toxic, destructive. It was a wonder that it was known for growth and prosperity, since all he had ever seen it do was destroy. Even Wonho wasn’t an exception, the sword-wielding general.)

 

He saw Minhyuk stare him down again as if it would have made him confess to any dishonesty, then sigh quietly. 

 

“I’m sorry, Kihyun.”

 

“How?”

 

“How?”

 

“How did you know?”

 

Minhyuk laughed at him as if he had just asked the most obvious question. He said, “You have an accent, buddy.” And then he snorted at the way Kihyun raised a hand to his lips in indignance, and continued, “Not to mention… Did you really think that nobody would have noticed a pretty new thing that appeared out of nowhere and doesn’t look half as worn down as every other tired doctor here?” Then Kihyun’s hand moved from his mouth to caress the side of his face and maybe, just maybe he was doing it to make Minhyuk laugh this time and was kind of disappointed by the small chuckle the boy granted before walking away.

 

The whole interaction had been a rollercoaster, and he is, yes, still reeling. 

 

Now that he’s rationalising it, thinking back to the scene he had witnessed earlier… That must have been Jooheon, the soft prince he had heard so much about, and he feels a surge of affection for the stranger. Something about the people of the kingdom inspired love like nothing else in the place did, and Kihyun is a willing victim of everyone’s charisma. 

 

Speaking of love, he thinks back to the exchange, combing it for any sign that Minhyuk could have possibly known about… It doesn’t seem like it, but he can’t help feeling uneasy. He hasn’t had a chance to talk to him since they arrived in the Kingdom, and now it doesn’t even seem as though Wonho is  _ trying _ to help him settle in.

 

Wonho, lovely, terrifying Wonho. If a few years ago he had been told he would have left behind everything he knew to follow the General of an enemy kingdom back to the palace itself, that he would have melted into his touch like he does now, that he would have gotten used to the taste of his lips on his own, Kihyun knows now he wouldn’t have believed it. But here he is, sitting just outside the princes’ quarters, still recovering from a conversation threatening to blow up his whole new life here in the Son Kingdom. Maybe it was a bad idea to help the beautiful, beat up General who had stumbled into his place late at night, half-conscious and half-bleeding out, to treat his wounds despite his hesitancy and then keep him for longer; maybe it was a bad idea to fall in love with him. Maybe it was a good idea. Maybe maybe maybe, but Kihyun doesn’t know. 

 

He never knows, really, with Wonho. 

 

That’s what he’s thinking about, very fittingly, when the man himself walks up to him and sits down, almost shocking the heartbeat out of Kihyun. He smiles unfazed as Kihyun rolls back and clutches his heart

 

“Hi,” He says, and Kihyun just splutters because “Hi”? Is that all he can say after the ordeal JUST an hour ago? But like he said before, it’s not like he knows how to be mad at Wonho anyway. He shuffles closer and leans his head on Wonho’s waiting shoulder. The silence washes over them like the comfort that settles in, and Kihyun settles into the up and downs of Wonho’s shoulders (slow, controlled, like he’s trying not not push him off, and Kihyun loves him for it). They interlock their hands, Kihyun subconsciously smoothes out the folds in Wonho’s robes, and they watch the birds peck at seeds on the ground in the garden a few steps off. 

 

Kihyun’s almost surprised by his own voice as he starts speaking.

 

“Hyung?” He hears Wonho’s soft hum in response as his hands pitter patter along Kihyun’s thigh. “How’s the general?” Silence. He waits for a while, but when it becomes evident that Wonho’s just about to ignore the question he tightens his hold on Wonho’s hand until it’s a grip.

 

“ _ Hyung? _ ” He clicks his teeth and turns Wonho’s head to face him before he pretends he didn’t hear the pointed tone in Kihyun’s voice. He wonders if the Son Kingdom is just full of parallels because this is the second time that day that he’s seen the same expression twice, now that he’s seeing the same scared expression on Wonho’s face like it had been written all over Minhyuk’s just a while ago. His heart hurts, and suddenly, maybe, he doesn’t want to be there anymore. He doesn’t know why he asks again, and it comes out frightened too, when he says “Hyung?” for the third time in that conversation. It’s even worse when Wonho finally replies and his voice cracks a million different ways-- Kihyun more than doesn’t want to be there. For the millionth time that day he fights the urge to flee.

 

“I don’t know Kihyun! Or I do. I don’t want to. I don’t dare to. How is the General? Why do people keep asking me that? They haven’t even let me in since we arrived, he’s sick and injured and it’s my fault and he’s the only father figure I’ve ever had but they won’t let me in to visit him because they’re busy floundering over his injuries so HOW WOULD I KNOW?” 

The last sentence ends in a squeak, strangled, wet, and then nothing but sharp intakes of breath trying to keep the lump in his throat inside.

 

Kihyun is never really sure if Wonho is comfortable with being vulnerable around him, but all he knows is that he always is, regardless. And he’s also not really sure how to handle situations like these, but he always does, regardless. He puts his arm around Wonho where the young general is now lying on his shoulder instead of the other way around and thinks he feels wetness on his robes, and then he waits until the breaths become soft, soft sniffles, hiccups, slow, measured breathing, and then he speaks.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

 

“No… I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You’re nice.” 

 

Wonho’s eyes are beautiful, Kihyun notices, only because he doesn’t dare to notice anything else. He focuses on the way Wonho’s tears cling onto every individual lash, and then when Wonho stares at him even harder Kihyun can’t focus on his eyes anymore, and now Wonho’s lips are the most beautiful things in the world. 

 

They probably shouldn’t, but it’s been too long, and their faces are so close.

 

Wonho tastes like the stars, Kihyun is sure of it. All the stress, all the anger over Shownu and the way he treated Wonho… Kihyun feels it all get washed away, Wonho’s hands trailing down his arms with the feeling of apparent calm. Everything is going to be okay.

 

Everything is going to be okay, even when Wonho pulls away from the kiss, even when Kihyun lets him. He’s still there, isn’t he? And he’s still holding Kihyun’s hands,  just slightly outside the princes’ quarters doing the most blasphemous thing possible: being Kihyun’s, even if it’s just for a while. 

 

(Kihyun wonders if the all-knowing Minhyuk is seeing  _ this _ , too.) 

 

“Are you alright?” He doesn’t have to ask, really. He knows Wonho usually isn’t, not these days, not since he met him and even before that, but he wants to hear the reassurance. He doesn’t turn away from him until he sees him nod in a yes, and even then he only hugs him tighter. He revels in the way Wonho rubs his nose into the crook of his neck, his breath easing in, out, in, out on Kihyun’s skin. 

 

“The General’s not okay, but I really hope he will be. The physicians don’t know what to do for him, and I don’t know what to do, but I hope I do soon.”

 

“You sure have a lot of things to hope about.”

 

Wonho laughs, “I just have a lot of hope. I got that from you.”  _ Cheesy bastard! _ It’s only Wonho’s very many (and very visible) wounds that keep Kihyun from beating him into a pulp. (Inwardly, he wants to slap his knees back into shape from where they had buckled and then turned into goo.) He also really, really, kind of wants to kiss him again, but another thought crosses his mind, sharp and overpowering.

 

Shownu.

 

He feels his fingers tighten reflexively around Wonho’s where he had touched him earlier in the Crown Prince’s chambers. Kihyun doesn’t know if he should bring it up, but then again, he supposes he doesn’t know a lot of things these days, so he kills the silence just as it begins.

 

“I didn’t realise you and His Highness were… like that.” It comes out more acidic than he intends, cold and accusatory, but he really can’t help it if he’s still mad about what happened earlier. Wonho blinks, “Like… what?” There it is again, the glaze that fell over his eyes, the pull of his hand from Kihyun’s, his head tilting, not turning, just towards the vague direction of the throne. The question hangs in the air like a bait Wonho is just daring him to take, but Kihyun was never afraid of biting. The feigned ignorance pisses Kihyun off. 

 

He pushes harder, “Like master and servant, like he owns you or something. Don’t play dumb.”

 

“I’m not playing dumb,” and at this point Wonho’s unchanged expression makes Kihyun want to murder him. “And he does.” 

 

“He does what?”  But Kihyun is afraid of the answer. He turns away and feels the immediacy of the question drop, and he knows Wonho won’t answer, and he thanks the heavens for it. He feels an phantom itch in his hand where Wonho had just pulled away and all the worries the kiss had washed away come back. (He really, really kind of wants to kiss him again.) And just as soon as he hoped, he feels Wonho’s hand on his shoulder, tap, tap, tap. Poke, he laughs. Poke, poke, poke. He finally turns around only to come face to face with Wonho. Well, nose to nose. He almost feels ticklish from the contact, and also somewhat like his eyes are crossing. If he tilts his chin forward just slightly their lips would brush, and dear God, he wants to. He really, really wants to. 

 

He doesn’t get to, of course, because it is at that moment that a certain someone decides to take a stroll out, and Wonho turns to him like a puppy following a stick.    
  


Shownu. 

 

He sees the flash of silk, and Red, Gold, Red, and then Wonho’s by the Crown Prince’s side again, just like he’s meant to be. That’s what Wonho didn’t have to say, because sitting right there in the shade of the two men in front of him speaking a million different tongues through small looks alone, Kihyun already knows.

 

( _ And he does, he really does. _ )

 

“I didn’t realise you two were friends.” It probably meant something along the lines of  _ I didn’t realise you had people outside of me _ , or  _ I didn’t realise I let you have someone else _ , or something wholly hostile. It annoys Kihyun, and even in that he feels vindictive because he’s assigning such a petty feeling, miniscule in the grand scheme of things, to the face and voice of the future king. It feels subversive, and Kihyun can’t help it when a small smile pushes into his cheek.

 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise  _ you _ two were friends.” It’s biting, sharp, exactly the right amount of petty to not get his head chopped off. But when he sees Wonho sigh softly and turn away, his shoulders straightening, aligning, and not to him, he thinks perhaps getting his head chopped off is not the worst thing that could happen to him. He feels Wonho twitch where his finger is still being (unwittingly) clung onto my Kihyun, and there’s this sense of relief, somehow. Because he hasn’t been dropped yet, and Wonho still chooses to stand in the middle, even if he turns towards Shownu.

 

That’s what Shownu seems to notice too, and Kihyun thinks he feels a tug, then he thinks maybe he was imagining it. But Wonho moves, ever so slightly, and so Kihyun lets go. He can’t win, not when Shownu…

 

He squeezes his eyes shut as if that would block out the memory from earlier that day, and opens his eyes to see it again in carbon copy: Wonho’s eyes fluttering shut at Shownu’s touch on his lips, his hand falling to his side from where Kihyun had let go of him.

 

-

Hyungwon’s been coughing for hours, and Changkyun’s getting a little worried.

 

It’s only because they’ve been rummaging through the ruins for that long, but he supposes he can’t really do anything but worry. He thinks, maybe, that it’s not so big a deal, really, even if they’re both wheezing their lungs out for the third hour in a row. The discovery of nobility and grandeur came at the cost of personal health, and that is how it must be. The current poor dead guy whose privacy is being invaded is Wonho, the last General of the Son Kingdom, the commander of King Shownu’s armies and yet another (as all these people go) controversial man. 

 

Wonho, Wonho, Wonho.

 

The real mystery was the fall of the Son Kingdom, and since he was half of whatever the Son Kingdom stood upon… Hyungwon supposes that he really was half the mystery. And what a mysterious man indeed, with his apparent obsession with the last king Shownu, and the contradicting distance and distinguishment he somehow had from his king that could not be said for preceding generals. 

 

Wonho was the only general of the Son Kingdom to have achieved the rank before the crowning of his king, and therefore the only general to ever have been, at some point, at the same rank as his king. Equal. Or something. Changkyun wonders if it really made a difference in the end, but looking at the ruins around him, the years and the dust passing this dead kingdom by, he supposes it didn’t. 

 

He combs through the room, sticking his fingers in here and there just in case Wonho had kept any hidden treasures around.  _ Apparently not _ , he thinks, blowing dust and grime off of his poor fingers for the umpteeth time. Hyungwon has already given up, Changkyun notices, and he watches in amusement as his boyfriend drags himself over to Wonho’s bed and flops himself on top. (He reminds Changkyun of those inflatable air dancers being cast about by the winds of air pollution and fate in the days of his past.)   
  


“Reminder that we’re  _ working _ , Chae.”

 

Hyungwon only whines from the bed, stretching an arm out and waving him over. He groans, but he’s already walking over and before he knows it he’s wedged safely between irresistibly long legs. He’s poutily comfortable in a matter of seconds, and he just knows his boyfriend is drifting off behind him.  _ A good kick wouldn’t hurt _ , he thinks as he digs his heel into Hyungwon’s calf.  _ Wake up, fool. _

 

He receives only a grunt in response from the poor sleepy man and has no choice but to give in to the weight of Hyungwon’s (asleep) legs around his.  _ Fine _ . He thinks,  _ Guess I’ll just work in the morning.  _ He pushes into Hyungwon’s hug and squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to giggle at the tickling sensation of the breath on his neck. 

 

But he can’t sleep, and this time not because he’s trying to be professional, because he had realised how impossible that was half a second ago when Hyungwon’s grunt had been followed by a snore and then soft breath on the back of Changkyun’s head. There’s something poking his cheek and for a dumb split second he thinks it’s Hyungwon annoying him, but then he sees that the wrongly accused arms are wrapped firmly around him and nowhere near his face. What is that? He scrunches up his face and tries to push it away but it sits soft and flimsy and doesn’t budge.

 

He shoots up from the bed, eyes flying open, when he realises it could be important. (Hyungwon flops to the other side of the bed and hangs over the edge.)

 

Changkyun all but flings the hard pillow away as his hands fly all over the bed in a scramble to pick up whatever the last General of the Son Kingdom could have been sleeping with under his pillow.  _ Got it! _ He raises it up to the light, turning and watching how the fabric stretches and folds between his fingers. It’s… just a piece of fabric, cheap cotton fabric, old, dusty. Private, precious, secret. They’re the first words to come up in Changkyun’s mind as he studies the cloth further, and thinks about how the General had been sleeping with it under his pillow, intimate, hidden, protected, something that shouldn’t have been in the room of one of the most high-ranking man in the palace anyway.

 

Jackpot. 

 

The fabric’s worn and faded, probably having used to be a more vivid purple, but Changkyun sees how that there’s a jewel sewn messily into the centre. It wasn’t… hasty. It was handsewn and carefully sewn but it’s not like he’s the expert on these things. What he does know is that this had used to be a headband of some sort. And when he looks at the cloth again with its frayed ends he thinks it might have been a strip torn off of somebody’s robes, a jewel on top masquerading it as a symbol of status. He tries to recall all the paintings of the General that he had ever seen before, whether he had ever seen him in something like this. It was definitely not Wonho’s. It couldn’t be, right? He turns over the band in his hands, watching how the gem caught the light, almost forgetting to blink. 

 

Then whose was it? What was so secret and so precious still that Wonho would be sleeping with it under his pillow, held close to his cheek, tattered and worn like nothing else around him? 

 

Completely unaware of the mental parkour Changkyun is in the middle of, Hyungwon pushes his face into his back and sneaks his hands around and onto his stomach. Changkyun smiles down at him and something possibly clicks in his mind.

 

Oh? 

 

-

 

Wonho tries to be as quiet as possible when he sneaks into the General’s room that day, but when he turns around, slow as a mouse, General Minho is already sitting up in his bed, waiting for him.

 

“Wonho-ah,” The General murmurs and Wonho thinks he might just break down because here he was, again, at the end of another war, standing helplessly by as his only father figure sewed up his gushing wounds. He knows he’s staring, slack-jawed, at the wound. That wound, where the sword had gone just past him and through and- 

 

Before the tears can make their way up and out, the General speaks again.

 

“Wonho-ah,” And this time it’s a little softer, a little more welcome, a little more forceful all at the same time. Wonho drags his legs that feel like lead over and collapses into the General’s open arms, a lump caught in his throat where he doesn’t dare to sob, doesn’t deserve to. He feels rough hands find themselves around his body and wrap tight and then wet cheeks before he realises they’re his when he feels salty tears drip past his lips and down. 

 

This is all wrong. Everything he’s feeling, everything he’s doing. He shouldn’t be in the General’s room anyway, not when even the King had been banned from visiting, but here he is, crying onto his shoulders like he’s a toddler again. It’s because it’s his fault, that’s probably the reason, but it only makes him cry harder. His fingers gripping weakly at the other’s robes, the hilt of his sword pushing uncomfortably into his side, constantly turning slightly to watch out for anyone else walking in, Wonho thinks this really is so pathetic.

 

“It’s only been a few days. You miss me that much?”

 

People never talk about wet laughs, when your nose is still red and sensitive and your whole face is still drying and after all that, maybe you’re not  _ fine _ fine but you’re  _ fine _ , you know?. Wonho thinks maybe people should talk about it more and laughs low and easy in his throat as he finally pulls away from the hug. 

 

“Of course I missed you.”

 

And they talk about the heat, how much colder it was in the enemy lands, how busy everything is even in their resting period, and how grumpy the King had been since they had come back, probably from a lack of contact with his General. The last part the General isn’t so well acquainted with, and listens to in genuine interest as Wonho recounts Shownu’s stress about how disgruntled his father had been acting and about how the grown ruler of the kingdom had been sulking around the palace. They laugh together until Wonho forgets the pain of kneeling for hours and the cramp in his calf that’s been there for the whole day. 

 

But they both know that’s not what Wonho’s there to talk about.

 

If anyone understood Wonho’s problem, it was the him, the only other living person in the kingdom who knew the hurt and exhilaration of being the General to the King, bent knees and heavy swords and loving someone else so much he forgot himself. And the guilt, that he might not be doing enough or are doing way too much or that he could love someone else that wasn’t the man he was born for. And the way his skin crawled at an unfamiliar loving touch that was beyond Shownu, and how it longed for it all at once.

 

He needs to talk about it with the General before he goes off his head, and that’s why he’s here, why he had slipped through the guards and the knowing eyes of the unknowing physicians, why he had crawled out of Shownu’s bed in the middle of the night and left his sleeping prince behind.

 

He has to talk about Kihyun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! SORRY that it took so long to update, I just wasn't satisfied :/ Once again, you can always find me on twitter @mongaygay, please leave kudos and comments-- I'd love to hear your thoughts and questions!


	6. King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for a prince to become a king. Shownu takes on the crown while Kihyun struggles to understand the sacred relationship still. 
> 
> (Despite the misleading title, this chapter actually centres heavily on Wonho and Kihyun as well.)
> 
> (Lots of Wonho loving involved)

It's completely empty here, but Hyungwon's used to it now.

 

He's surprised at how dead the grass is, ash-brown and flat, echoes of the feet that might have trampled them centuries back. A frightening thought passes and then settles, of phantom feet dragging over the grass that should’ve been fresh otherwise. Hyungwon shudders. Death lingers fresh and sour at the back of his throat and he finds his hand on Changkyun's elbow without noticing he had reached for him. His hairs stand on end. What _is_ this place? They’re standing on a large field in the middle of the Son Palace, steps away from the tree he had tripped onto a few days ago, and there's nothing here.

 

Absolutely nothing.

 

And yet he can't stop walking around, glaring into the rotten grass as though it would give him answers, running his long fingers through the ice cold of the condensation that hangs too long in the air. In a few seconds, Changkyun's moves a thousand years away, but Hyungwon barely registers the decreasing sound of the retreating footsteps. There's something else, in the distance— he can just barely make it out. Something fuzzy in the side of his vision, upright and solitary amidst the nothingness that seems to go on for miles.

 

Before he knows it, he's sprinting over. It's absurd, really, his dogged determination to make sense of this empty grass field, when Changkyun seems to have found much better things to look at, elsewhere, and he's _running_ , why? He had no idea his legs could _do_ that. He's panting and sighing and groaning like a malfunctioning crank, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop even as his legs start feeling like sharp hollow spears dragging along the floor, not until the thing he had seen rolled over the horizon.

 

And now he's really alone, he sees, and has a rapid inexplicable urge to flee. There's nothing within miles of him except the freezing draft that slithers up his back, and it seems like he could have bellowed into the horizon and only heard his own voice shouting back. He reminds himself to stick to Changkyun next time, his fingers folding, trembling, against his elbows. _Come on Chae_ , his mental Changkyun lectures him, _it's just grass._

 

Grass, and what? He takes a look at the thing that had brought him over, a piece of wood, stuck deep and sharp into the soil below. A closer look reveals it to be a broken branch, the ends where it had been slashed off resembling human gashes. Hyungwon almost feels pain in the tree's stead, like he had been sliced open too. He leans over and draws his hand down the wood, examining the way it had been stuck into the ground below.

 

Why? The grass wouldn't give him answers, but he begs it anyway, as if there could be any clues in the nothingness that he stands on. It's chilling to think that there's a real world just outside of here, trains and buildings and the morning rush, that it's not really eternal dusk and dawn like it feels when he's here. Here he stands, a professional historical researcher, in a patch of dead grass begging a stick of wood for answers and feeling as though the ground is going to swallow him whole. He squirms where he stands, resisting the urge to beg Changkyun to come over.

 

As he's crouching down to examine the area, he notices the grass under his feet, green and living and fresh, taller than the crinkled excuses for plants he had stomped across, tickling him across his bare ankles where his socks have slid down. _Shit._ What was it he read that time, about areas where the grass grew greener? He feels the fear spread like a tingle of a breath on his neck, and it roots him to the ground, his knees locking in total contradiction of his desire to pass out.

 

_Oh no._

 

He barely registers when the phone starts buzzing in his pocket, his head feeling fuzzy and empty and full at once, when he opens the message from Changkyun.

 

_04:34: I think this is a graveyard._

 

-

 

"... that I will do my utmost to serve the duties and functions that befit a King of Son... that I sleep and live with the weight of the acres and the people over my shoulders... "

 

The whole capital must be out here. Kihyun looks around at the hushed crowd, watching their clammy hands clasp over one another, feet tapping anxiously onto the ground until he's sure that the arena is positively vibrating from the combined force of it. He hasn't seen a crowd this big since the war had ended and he had been carted back through the roaring procession pretending to be a doctor that had been there the whole while. _Boy, several months sure feel like decades when your life is a complete shithole_ , he muses to himself, watching bitterly the festivities around him.

 

Because of _course_ , the crowd is unimaginable. It's _coronation_ day. Shownu, the nation's beloved crown prince, had finally come of age, and today, he takes on the crown. From today, Shownu of Son Kingdom becomes the man who single-handedly holds the most power in the entire kingdom, commanding entire armies with the nod of his head and approving and manipulating countless wars and pillages. Kihyun hates him for it, and for a million other things he doesn’t dare to list.

 

"...that I place the Kingdom before the self... that the prestige and might of the Kingdom shall not be soiled by my reign... that I will be a true and honest King. This I pledge."

 

Kihyun looks up to see Shownu bow before his father, a tall, terrifying man whose presence was even more elevated by the docile presence of the strong young man bowing down to him. Shownu is always well-dressed, and rightly so, usually in robes that seemed to be (and probably were) tailored and sewn right onto his body, and his hair is usually impeccable, spilling over his shoulders and fringe pulled back by embroidered red and gold silk, but he looks different today.

 

He’s divine. Today he looks sculpted, glowing, the folds of his robes adhering so perfectly to his skin it looks like he was born in it, his hair pulled into a tight bun over his head, freeing up the area around his shoulders where his broad frame was usually concealed. It's a strategic move, probably, to make him look so incredibly strong on the most important day of his life, and also to fuck with one Yoo Kihyun. Because no matter how much he wants to hate him, and that is so so much, he has to admit he looks exactly like the heavens that kings are said to come from.

 

But Kihyun's looking for someone else. Kihyun's neck aches from how far he's craned it, peeking above the thousand heads in front of him to catch a glimpse of the general. Shownu's heavenly image is tainted by the absence of the adoring and worshipful brown eyes that followed him everywhere. People are so much easier to worship when they're always accompanied by someone who so readily and adamantly does it, and Kihyun suspects that that is the point of the King-General system in the first place, and he supposes that's why the old King looks particularly offbeat without his general by his side.

 

Just then, a hush washes over the audience that had been quiet to begin with, and he follows the awed glances of the crowd to see Wonho enter the stage.

 

The Son Kingdom has never had a beautiful general before. Kihyun is new to the country, but even as a complete outsider, he concludes this by the way the citizens gaze in such genuine amazement at the man that entered the stage that they weren't used to getting to look at a general for this long. The kings were the centre of the spotlight, the adored, the gods and the angels, and the generals were just the fools who loved them endlessly. This is much different, and Kihyun doesn’t have to look twice to know that.

 

Wonho looks absolutely stunning, his hair lying soft and pitch black over his shoulders, framing his face and jawline. His lips are full and plush and perfect in an eternal pout and even his hands that rest by his side are fit for relentless loving, concealed mostly by the long flowing ends of the robes that billow around his wrist, and showing only the dainty pink tips of his soft hands. Most people would have been swallowed by the billowing silks that his robe was made of, but Wonho looks celestial, vulnerable and beautiful without the chunky armour he was usually encased in. The crowd watches him, searching his face for any sign of weakness, of faltering, because of what had happened just the day before, but Kihyun thinks today any delicateness would have been beauty on his face.

 

 _You're so beautiful_ , Kihyun thinks, and if voices could break in thoughts, Kihyun's would have with that one, because Wonho also does look so _sad_ . He watches the general kneel down at Shownu's feet, head inclined reverently up at him, with that _look. You're all I have,_ Wonho says without speaking, and Shownu's benign smiling face replies, _I know_. Kihyun knows what's coming next, he's seen them rehearse it a thousand times and he can say it by heart too. But he thinks it might break him to hear it now.

 

"The General of the Son Kingdom will now pledge himself to the kingdom and to his king."

 

Kihyun bites his lip to hold in the cry that threatens to escape, but he can’t block out the vows for long.

 

"... to protect my king before my life... to ensure anything that hurts him would have killed me a thousand times first... to take care of this god-given body because it is his first of all..."

 

_No..._

 

"... that no kiss should befall my lips but that bestowed by my king, no touch unpermitted..."

 

Kihyun's hand flies up to his own lips, unwittingly, and he really doesn't dare to hear much more. He can still feel the tender press of Wonho's lips against his last night: the quiet, desperate intertwining of their fingers, seeing the general smile into the kiss through the moonlight passing through the treetop leaves. His other hand closes tightly around the jeweled headband hidden in his robe. It's so hard to remember that Wonho is not Shownu's, or to even believe it, what with all the festivities and the intensity and the way Wonho's eyes follow him like he's the only man in the world. But at some point, Wonho had become Kihyun’s, and he had become Wonho's, and everything that is happening now is achingly familiar, but it's so easy to forget when Wonho pledges his very being to Shownu in the witness of the whole country.

 

"... no ommission, no exceptions, that I'll write you into my bones..."

 

Wonho's voice breaks, shatters almost, but he pushes on even when his words can barely be heard anymore, and for once, Shownu's calm demeanour breaks and he bends down and reaches for him, even as the old king glares in disapproval. It's so deadly silent Kihyun can almost make out what Shownu's saying as he falls onto his knees and pulls Wonho's head into his chest, "No... No, no, no. My love, it's okay. I know, I know." It's a king-general relationship like it's never been seen before, and even though he maintains that it's still messed up, Kihyun has to admit there is love there. That Shownu loves Wonho too.

 

He gets up to leave.

 

-

_(A month before)_

 

He didn't think he'd be with Wonho tonight, but this is nice. The leaves crunch under his feet where he steps and he makes sure to find all the crispy ones, bouncing on all of them while Wonho laughs behind him, getting pulled along through the forest. It's so... easy to get lost here, hidden in all the repetitive identical trees, watching every same patch of moonlight hover and pass into shadows behind him, and it's so much easier to get lost when he's with Wonho, feeling like he's floating on air and that the dusk would never end.

 

He didn't think he'd be with Wonho tonight, and he had been right not to, since it's foolish to get his hopes up over a man who barely has time for him. (He does anyway.) Wonho's perfect and loving, but Kihyun has no right to him, and no right to ask, and he comes and goes and all Kihyun can do is appreciate it. (And he does.) It had been weeks since they had had any proper time together, so he had been surprised, to say the least, when Wonho had shown up to his quarters in the middle of the night, smiling sheepishly and asking him to walk with him. He had been surprised, because, overwhelmed with all the stress of his sick father, Wonho had refused to see anyone, and had buried himself in coronation preparations so that he only surfaced during meals and the occasional public ceremony. He certainly hadn't expected him to be smiling, leaning sleazily on the door frame with his pretty hands outstretched, tempting Kihyun into a spontaneous walk in the forest.

 

"You're gorgeous," Wonho calls from behind him, tightening his grip and catching up so they're side by side. Kihyun slaps him lightly on the arm, slowing down so they're walking at a leisurely pace, and he feels like he's sighing without having to do it. _How does being with Wonho make him feel like everything's okay when absolutely nothing is?_ They walk in silence for a minute, and at some point Wonho tries to lean on his shoulder, and it obviously doesn't work, and Kihyun laughs and Wonho laughs and Kihyun squeezes his hand tighter begging the nightfall to never end.

 

Then they're sitting by the water, alone in the dark and empty expanse of the riverbank, Wonho's hand resting just on top of Kihyun's. It's perfect, really. Just now, they had been led by the stray and occasional patches of the dim moonlight and now they're under a gaze of a thousand stars, and it's perfect, and it would be perfect even if the moss had ridden up their legs or if the clouds had obscured the stars tonight because at least Wonho's there, with him. _I love you so much_ , he thinks, watching the other man kick at the water, chuckling low and adorable at how the water rippled under the night sky.

 

"Do you want to talk?" Wonho suddenly asks, which is yet another surprise, because it's something Wonho spends most of his life avoiding.

 

"Do you?" He replies, only to see the other man shrug and give him a small smile. Wonho picks up his hand and starts playing with his fingers, and Kihyun is almost too buried in his endearment to hear himself continue, "About Shownu?" It's scandalous, really, that he doesn't call the crown prince by his rightful title, and even more so that his general doesn't do anything about it, but it is one of the petty liberties that he has begun to learn to appreciate.

 

"My fathe- the general said I should talk to you about this. I know you don't like it, the way our relationship is." Wonho starts off hesitantly but ends steadily, even though he still turns away from eye contact. Kihyun doesn't know what to say, or if he even needs to say anything. Wonho isn't wrong about what he said; he's just understating it heavily, for decency’s sake. Kihyun replies, "I don't." Wonho seems to have been expecting it, but still bites his lip at the answer.

 

"There's just... There's a lot you don't understand about it, Kihyun. I know it's messed up, I do. But it's not his fault. They made me this way before we were both conscious of it all--"

  
"He lets you!"

 

"We're trying, Kihyun! We're trying because I love him and he loves me and it hurts, it hurts so much because no matter how much we try, there's some fucked up part of me that doesn't want to let it go! He's trying, Kihyun. I just, I don't know if I'm ready to stop loving him like that. But I also know this, for sure, that beyond… all of that, we really do love each other? I..." He draws in a shaky breath and then falls quiet as Kihyun pulls his head into his chest and wraps his arms tight around him, pressing soft kisses onto his head and rubbing circles onto his back. He doesn't know what to say, holding Wonho's whole body trembling like a leaf in his arms, and never having heard any of that before. He prays that Wonho can't hear how fast his heart is beating, and how hard his hands are shaking on his back because the only thing he can do is let Wonho's sniffles ring out into the silence.

 

He supposes he had never really thought of it that way. He supposes that he should have realised they weren't dumb, but he still can't shake feeling that there was so much more Shownu could be doing for him, for Wonho.

 

Ever since he had met Wonho, he had never lost the impression that Wonho was born to be loved, that even the pettiest and most vengeful of hearts would have bent to the curve of his dimple and the crease of his lips. Even with battle wounds and bloody gashes all over his war-worn body, he had still found the energy somewhere in him to smile weakly at the terrified village physician whose door he had come knocking on. Even on the verge of death he had added a ‘please’ to the starts of his sentences and a ‘thank you’ to the end of every single one. Kihyun thinks that not only is Wonho born to be loved, he was born to love, and he thinks it every time Wonho tip-toed past the tiny screaming frogs in the morning like a gentle giant and lost to the same group of toddlers in the occasional mock-fights. Shownu definitely could do more.

 

The big fluffy head Kihyun's cuddling between his arms speaks into his chest, "I'm sorry, Ki... I don't know why I brought that up." Kihyun chuckles-- trust Wonho to throw himself headlong into a situation he can't handle and then end up crying. He responds only by squeezing him tighter in a headlock, and Wonho flails adorably before surrendering to the hug.

 

"I love you so much," Wonho speaks Kihyun's thoughts out loud, and it's almost tear-inducing. "Let’s not talk about Nu, let's talk about something else."

 

"Like what?"  


 

"Like us." Kihyun looks up, a smile subconsciously playing on his lips, "Us?" Wonho nods, wrapping his arms around Kihyun and pushing himself up, "Like how I love you and you love me and I want to be yours and I think about you all the time?" Kihyun bites his lips to hold in a laugh, although it doesn't help with the blush that forms on his face.

 

"Sure." He says, "Let's talk about us." He knows from Wonho's laugh and subsequent burying of his face behind his own hands that he once again has no plan, whatsoever, so he speaks instead, calmly, "I want to be yours too, if that helps." Wonho squeaks an inhuman squeak and spins the whole way away, restrained only by Kihyun turning him back by his shoulders. This is so cheesy, Kihyun thinks, but if being around Wonho means that he has to surrender to these dark, too-romantic thoughts and urges to bury his chin in Wonho's shoulder and peck his cheeks, then he must.

 

(He doesn't have to, because seconds later Wonho's arms are squeezed tight around his waist and his head settled comfortably in the crook of Kihyun's neck.)

 

Kihyun involuntarily purrs at the contact, pulling Wonho's hands closer around himself and sighing into the touch. _God_ , he wants to be Wonho's. He'd want nothing more than to be loved by the world's best angel, to protect him and love him and sew him up and have him for however long forever could be.

 

That's what he's thinking about when Wonho mumbles quietly, "Marry me."

 

He would've spluttered, going into a frenzied overdrive, eyes expanding to the sizes of saucers, but he thinks, _this actually makes sense, this seems exactly like something Wonho would do_ , and lets out a breathy "yes". It makes complete sense. Kihyun laughs squeakily out loud because it's so obvious, and easy, and perfect, and still something exactly and only Wonho would come up with. “Marry me”, he said, like it’s so simple, just like that, and it is. Kihyun laughs again because it really is that simple.

 

_Marry me. No one has to know._

 

In a cold, empty forest at the break of dawn, their feet ankle deep in river water, completely illegally and secretly, probably isn't the best way to get married for anyone, but it's also exactly what Kihyun wants, because Wonho asked him and he loves him and seriously, everything's fine, or it's easy to pretend that it is, because he gets to love Wonho, at least he does. _I get to love you._

 

It's not a traditional marriage, not that it could ever have been. There are no flowers or guests or officiators or even rings and Kihyun's in his pyjamas and neither of them can stop giggling, writing scrambled vows to each other in the random spots of light they can find, hiding desperately everytime the other person tried to peek over his shoulder. It’s _perfect_.

 

Instead of rings, Wonho gently unwraps the beautiful, silk, jewel-encrusted headband from his head and then ties it around Kihyun's hand, the ruby glistening red and forbidden on his wrist. Almost sheepishly, Kihyun returns the favour, replacing Wonho's hand-sewn band with his own: common and cotton and his, and now Wonho's. It's clumsy, their hands bumping in the dark of the twilight, laughs tumbling over their lips in short, embarrassed spurts, but they don't turn away from each other.

 

"Yoo Kihyun, I promise I'll always want to be with you, that I'll be worth your coming here, that you, my sun and stars, will be the root of all my smiles and... I'll be dusk to your day, the starry sky that settles over your burning sunset, that I'll always love you and always want to love you. I love you. "

 

"Wonho, I... I've never met anyone like you. You're intense and yet you're soft, and loving, and lovable. You're made of love, and light, and you're a soft breath, a sigh away from just being a daydream. You're _my_ daydream, I love you."

 

Kihyun barely remembers getting back into bed later that night, his head consumed fully by thoughts of the last kiss they shared after their makeshift vows, foreheads pressed so close together.

 

He dreams of nothing, but he wakes up thinking about Wonho.

 

-

 

"I know, I know, I know." Shownu whispers sweet nothings into Wonho's hair, wiping his tears as they come. Wonho's always been prone to tears, and with the events of yesterday, Shownu supposes that it isn't unexpected that he'd be particularly fragile now, but he's always been so adamant to follow traditions and procedures that Shownu had believed that even that couldn't have broken his demeanour on this sacred day.

 

 _Guess people can surprise you_ , Shownu thought grimly to himself, resting his chin on top of Wonho's head and rocking him sweetly. He knows the whole kingdom is watching, he can feel his father's angry glare drilling into his back, but up here, with his best friend crying like he'd never be happy again, Shownu's got bigger priorities. If this is what Wonho needs, Shownu would be completely alone in the world with him, would rock him till the tears stopped falling, until the crowd disappeared from their side altogether.

 

 _It's okay, it's okay, it's okay_ , he tells himself as well. There are some things he can't fix, some things he can never fix, but all he has is Wonho and especially now, all Wonho has is him, and that has to be enough somehow. Whatever's happened has happened, and even though it hurts, (and it hurts _so_ much), he knows Wonho feels it a thousand times over, because Wonho feels everything to the extent of how things can be felt, like he himself had been stabbed through the chest and out, like he might die from the very pain of it. And Shownu's going to be the king, damnit, and if he couldn't take care of his most important subject, he might as well reject the crown right there. This is his biggest duty.

 

Wonho stops crying, eventually, but Shownu refuses to let go of him, even for a while, because he can feel the old king's rage from miles away. _What kind of general breaks down sobbing in the middle of his king's coronation_ , he can almost hear his father shout, and somehow with his back against the rest of the crowd, Wonho hidden in his broad arms, he feels like he's protecting him.

 

"Are you okay?" He asks Wonho, making sure to keep his voice low and calm, keeping a protective hand resting on the small of the general's back. "Can we continue?" Wonho nods, sniffles, and then nods again more confidently, looking soft and pale-pink and lovely and nothing like a general's supposed to look like. Shownu thinks they dressed Wonho up today to target him, specifically, because he already loves Wonho in his bulky armour and with a heavy metal sword weighing down his gait, but now he's completely visible, the silk robes seeming to blossom right from the pinks of his skin, and Shownu can barely hold himself together. He's so beautiful it makes him sad, because he's too soft for the duty of his position, for the grinding, jaw-gritting sound of a sword being unsheathed, for the pain of a thousand deaths, for the pain he’s facing, right now.

 

Shownu sometimes wonders if their positions should be switched. He'd be happy to kneel at Wonho's feet for the rest of his life, to lean into the pads of his palms and shut his eyes. They say kings are heaven-sent but he can't just believe that, not now. Not when he stands in his own coronation feeling utterly human and gapes at a man who might as well be a dream, his face peachy-pink from crying, whom Shownu couldn't ever find the words to explain but was definitely not born of man. Not when he looks over at his father standing alone and unattended by the throne, with anger and fire from deep behind the eyes, hands clenched in such ungraceful rage that could never have come from the stars, disgraced without his loving general.

 

Maybe they had all gotten it wrong about who was heaven-sent after all.

 

The ceremony continues and soon he hears the royal announcer declare,

 

"And now, for the scared ceremonial kiss: The bonding between our new-crowned king and his faithful general."

 

Shownu has always thought that this tradition was insanely contradictory to everything the kingdom stood for, when they condemned the romantic affections between men of different ranks, or at all. Everything in the kingdom contradicted and complemented this king-general relationship in general, and Shownu doesn't think he can ever really unpack it.

 

Especially not now, when Wonho stands in front of him, apprehensive and sheepish, and he can almost hear the bated breath of the thousands that watch on.

 

He really hates it, the feeling of having to share this, share Wonho, with the thousand eyes that monitor their every move. It feels vulnerable, exposed, and super messed up, to say the least, but he's slowly having a hard time thinking.

 

His body carries him over while his entire head fuzzes up, and he only regains feeling in his touch when his hand rests on Wonho's cheek, soft and wet because _obviously_ he's crying again. He wants to laugh, but it doesn't come, and he only leans in closer towards Wonho's slightly parted lips.

 

_Fuck._

 

He had never really imagined kissing Wonho. It was never a part of his brain that he wanted to visit, but he supposes in the back of his mind, locked up in a compartment somewhere, he had always wanted to do it. He doesn't really know what he expected, but it wasn't any of it. It felt more detached, hesitant. He feels more of the excited audience atmosphere than he feels his best friend's lips on his, and he doesn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

 

That would depend on whether he wants to kiss Wonho or not.

 

He doesn't know, and as he's thinking, they've already pulled away. All he knows now is that, he would die for Wonho, really, and that he will never understand how the king decided to carry on with the celebrations today as if yesterday had never happened. He squeezes his eyes shut to bring his mind somewhere else, and turns to face the crowd instead.

 

 _His_ people.

 

He's now the king, and he puts on his most regal smile and tries not to meet the eyes of any particular person pinning their new hopes and dreams on the young man that promised to lead their country, and relaxes only at the press of Wonho’s palm to his back.

 

-

 

Changkyun sees Hyungwon running back from the barren land he had wandered off to. It reminds him of when he was kid, every time after watching a scary movie, flushing the toilet and scrambling to get the fuck back to human territory (the living room) without properly wiping his hands before the imaginary ghost made a meal out of him. His boyfriend running back with his long slenderman legs, his hair flying in the wind, has about the same vibe right now. Frankly, it's not too unexpected since the last cryptic text he had sent to Hyungwon had simply been, "I think this is a graveyard."

 

He'd have run too.

 

He opens his arms in anticipation of the terrified long man coming his way, and is still not braced for the impact when his boyfriend smashes into his chest, huffing and groaning. If this was a movie, they would've been rolling in the grass. It isn't a movie, but he's Changkyun, damnit, so they're rolling in the grass anyway, Hyungwon screeching and wriggling for dominance. When Hyungwon lands on top of him with his skinny legs wrapped around him, he breathes out, "You fucking scared me, Im." And all Changkyun can do is laugh uncontrollably at him.

 

"So how do you know this is a graveyard?" Hyungwon asks after all that, standing in the middle of all the headstones around them. Changkyun sees the _Oh_ written all over his face before he grins, embarrassed and slaps himself softly on his cheek. He comes over to the headstone that Changkyun is in front of and squats down next to him.

 

"I was going to clear the dust off this thing but I thought you wouldn't want to miss out on the fun."

 

Hyungwon gives him the _you-now-me-so-well_ look and nods for him to start. The headstone was well-placed, viewable and important and solitary. This clearly had been an important and possibly royal graveyard, with only a few headstones lining the grass in pairs. This one was different in its solitude, an empty patch next to it where there should have been another headstone. What happened? Changkyun wipes off the dust and the grime bit by bit, and Hyungwon slowly starts to make out the letters to the name of the man who had been buried without his designated partner.

 

If his theory is correct, and he thinks it might be, then this graveyard was filled with the headstones of kings and generals. They stand upon the bones and decayed flesh of thousands of kings and generals that lived and died, and this headstone belonged to another one.

 

He thinks he knows which, and he squints to make out the words that appear on the headstone to discover that he is right. That centuries ago, general Wonho would have been kneeling at this exact same spot, begging for forgiveness, tears falling onto the fresh soil below.

 

 _Lee Minho, Ninth General of the Son Kingdom_ , followed by the date of his death, just a day before the last king of the Son Kingdom had been crowned.

 

_‘He who only knew love.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's the longest chapter I've written for this fic, and also took the shortest time hehe  
> shownu and wonho really are trying to work past the way they were raised they're good boys that really do love each other!! and i hope u enjoyed kiho too hehe
> 
> tell me what you think in the comments please ;-;;;; or talk to me on twt @ mongaygay 
> 
> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> 'm really excited about this story and I love Showho so we'll see how this story goes!!! Leave kudos as you see fit and please please please comment I wanna know what you think of the relationships and characters so far :') Talk to me on twitter @mongaygay or tumblr @buttbebe or just comment here <3


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